


All That Glitters

by belial



Series: The ATG Hobbitverse [1]
Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Hobbit - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Adventure, Alternate Universe, Best Friends Bilbo and Smaug, Dragon of the Shire, Humor, M/M, Meddling!Smaug, No Arkenstone, No Dragons Burning Erebor, No Gold Madness, Nobody Dies, Romance, Thorin is a Ridiculous Dwarrow, healer!bilbo
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-29
Updated: 2015-01-08
Packaged: 2018-03-04 04:57:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 19,892
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2953157
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/belial/pseuds/belial
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What happens when two best friends try to visit the dwarrow kingdom of Erebor, and one of those friends just happens to be a giant fire-breathing Drake of the North?  Mayhem, magic, adventure, and love from a dragon’s perspective.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue: They Meet

In hindsight, Smaug realizes it may not have been his best planning to enter the world of men in broad daylight. The men who’d spotted him were small, petty and deserved to be singed for shooting arrows at him. He hadn’t expected to receive a snoutful of dragonsbane, however. He hadn’t thought the small plant to still grow, with most of his kin annihilating it for eons before.

“Damn,” he mutters, before he crashes to the ground in an unconscious heap. 

~

He comes awake with a roar, scattering a flock of birds from the immediate area. He isn’t sure where he is, or how many days he’s been asleep, and his immediate reaction is anger. 

He’s not expecting the irritated shout of, “Hold still, you overgrown gecko!”

Smaug ceases his struggling, turns his neck to the source of the noise. He finds a small, golden-haired creature sitting on his forearm, rubbing it with some sort of thick paste. “If you make me fall and break my neck, I’ll be rather cross with you,” it continues, as though Smaug’s not hundreds of times larger than it is. 

Smaug snorts a breath through his nose, and the creature demands, “And breathe through your mouth until I tell you otherwise! You’ve got a poultice in your nostrils that’s clearing up the dragonsbane. If you inhale through your nose, you’re going to pass out again.”

“What manner of creature are you?” Smaug finds himself growling in shock. “That you would so comfortably sit upon me and order me about like a hatchling?”

“I’m a hobbit,” the hobbit says, not stopping in his ministrations to Smaug’s scales. “Bilbo Baggins at your service. Now hold still.”

“And what, may I ask, are you doing?” Smaug’s initial anger gives way to amusement at the dictatorial tone of the tiny… hobbit. Fascinating.

“I’m rubbing an olive paste into your scales,” Bilbo replies. “You’ve got dry spots and they probably itch like mad. This will help you while your nose clears.”

Smaug blinks. He remembers vague wisps of what his life was after the egg; another that cared for him a lifetime ago. And here, ages later, a tiny hobbit rubbing olive paste into his scales to comfort him. “What do you expect from this service, hobbit?” 

“Well, I expect you not to eat me,” the hobbit replies, and Smaug sees the tiniest flash of teeth. “And mayhap you could call me Bilbo, since you crash-landed into my field and scared my neighbors and have made a general nuisance of yourself. Senseless, really, for you to be traveling in such a manner. Where were you off to in such a hurry that you passed through Härlond? Don’t you know how much they hate dragons there?”

Smaug lowers his head in a sulk. “I am the last of my kind, hobbit. Surely they have no reason…”

“The last? Not at all,” the hobbit replies. “Though you’re much better mannered than the last dragon I met. All teeth and snarls, that one. Very ill-tempered. We sent him on his way rather quickly, I’m afraid.”

“We?”

“Oh,” the hobbit replies, and Smaug notes the way its cheeks redden. “Mother and I. My mother’s the Shire’s healer, and I am her apprentice. Anyway, when that one woke, he snarled and blew smoke at her and she didn’t take too kindly to it. She made a paste of pepper powder and rubbed it around his eyes. He left rather quickly afterwards.”

Smaug refuses to find the tiny creature endearing. He’s a dragon. He’s not supposed to be sociable. Unfortunately, his curiosity’s always landed him into terrible trouble.

“So then why do you help me?”

“Oh! Because you didn’t. When mother and I came out to see what had happened, you looked right at her and said, ‘Thank you, healer.’ Not sure how you knew she was a healer, though?”

“The basket she carried,” Smaug replies, and remembers the circumstance. “She limps slightly in her left leg, a sure sign of some sort of childhood injury that healed incorrectly, and only an experienced healer would be able to care for it so it didn’t hinder her. Also, when she came nearer, she had the distinct smell of elderberry, oak, and clay, which denotes the ability to combine these items in a manner for healing. I remember her now; the dragonsbane causes a recent memory loss, but it isn’t permanent. I don’t remember you with her, though.”

The creature – Bilbo – stares at him with wide eyes, and Smaug glares at him. “Why do you gape at me?” he demands.

“That was brilliant!” Bilbo says, beaming at him. “You were absolutely right, every word! How did you do such a thing?”

Smaug isn’t sure how to respond. Normally people are too busy running and screaming from him to be able to carry on a conversation. Bilbo’s pleased expression makes for an exciting change. “I could… tell you. If you indeed are interested.” 

“Are you joking? You have to tell me!”

“It’s all about observation and deduction,” Smaug says. He lowers his head so that he’s inches away from the fascinating – and fascinated – hobbit. “For example, I know you’re awkward in society even though you’re well-bred and probably a member of what passes for royalty in these parts. You’re an only child, still considered very young by your species, and you’ve got a keen eye for adventure.”

Bilbo’s jaw drops. “Now you’re having me on. How’d you know that?”

“It’s simple. Your manner of dress is of the highest quality, though you care little for it, considering you’re covered in that olive paste and unconcerned about your jacket and trousers. You mentioned being your mother’s apprentice instead of saying you’re one of her apprentices, which means you are her beloved only child. And as you are still an apprentice, you have not yet reached an age where you are considered an adult.”

“And what about that bit about the adventure?”

“I believe it’s because you’re sitting on a dragon and conversing with me,” Smaug says, a touch of tartness entering his voice. “And by the way those other hobbits are running toward us, I would assume you’re not supposed to be near me by yourself?”

Bilbo turns his head to see the gathering crowd, and winces hard. Smaug infers that he has spotted his mother in the gathering mob. “Damn,” the hobbit mutters, and Smaug can’t help but grin. “Well, this is going to be awkward.”

“Not at all, my dear hobbit. You could perhaps introduce me to them as a potential friend.”

“And why would a Drake of the North befriend the citizens of the Shire?”

“Because the Shire has you, Bilbo Baggins. And you are an enthralling treasure indeed.”


	2. Twenty Years Later

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> THIS CHAPTER: The trip to Erebor; Snark; Insulting the Prince

“I still say this is a terrible idea!”

Smaug rolls his eyes and turns to puff smoke at the hobbit riding upon him, causing Bilbo to cough. “What have I told you about doing that?” Bilbo demands, waving a hand at him. “I truly detest it when you smoke, I can never get the smell out of my clothes.”

“Then stop complaining at me,” Smaug replies, and puffs smoke at him once more for good measure. And maybe out of spite. “We left at night, we’re high enough that none will see us. We avoided Rivendell to keep the Elves unaware of our travels. I have given in to every demand you’ve made, and still you tell me this is a terrible idea. Why is it terrible? I’ve yet to see the downside to our trip. Especially since you’ve done nothing but tell me how much you want to see the Lonely Mountain and Dale’s medicinal fair.”

“Because I’d still rather miss the fair than have half of Middle Earth trying to kill you,” Bilbo replies, and pokes Smaug hard in the snout. “I still don’t see how we’re going to find someplace to lodge with you and how I’m supposed to keep you safe, and oh! How did you ever talk me into leaving the Shire?”

Smaug laughs. “First of all, I am here to keep _you_ safe and to be your traveling companion. And besides, Belladonna would behead me if I let any harm come to her son. Secondly, why should you not see the world, if that is what you wish? You avoid all of the pitfalls of traveling on the road when you take to the skies!”

“Until someone shoots us out of it,” Bilbo grumbles. “And what about when we land, hmm?”

“Then I’ll just have to eat anyone who annoys you.”

“You’re hilarious. Truly.”

Smaug sighs. “For my sake, could you not at least pretend to be excited about going?”

“Of course I’m excited!” Bilbo shouts. “But being excited doesn’t make me stop worrying about you!”

“You would not be a treasured friend if we could not worry for each other,” Smaug retorts. And that makes Bilbo go silent. “I would not see you on this trip alone. The Shire would be an empty, silent space without your companionship, and my worry would be too great to enjoy any other in your stead.”

Bilbo’s small hands pet his back, nimble fingers sliding between the thick scales to touch his naked skin. “I would not wish to be anywhere without you, either.”

“Hmmph,” Smaug huffs the sound, and turns his attention back to where he’s flying. “As I promised, I will set us on the far side of the lake, so that we may be between Esgaroth and Erebor. None shall see us land, and we may make our way to Dale relatively unseen.”

“I’m glad you know where you’re going,” Bilbo says, and sighs. “This is a big risk, you know.”

“I may be old, but I’m not doddering. I’m not unaware of the risks, Bilbo. I’ve just decided the rewards outweigh any potential issue.”

Smaug’s mighty wings gobble up the nearly-thousand miles in the span of four days. Bilbo and his traveling pack are a nearly negligible weight upon him, and no matter where they stop, trees shelter them from passersby. Now, upon closing in on their final destination, Bilbo’s nerves have taken him. “You know twice as much as any other attending that fair,” he says, reassuring his hobbit. “Your books and studies from various cultures do you well, and I’ve never seen any with your level of care and concern for all creatures. So stop worrying.”

Bilbo sighs, and Smaug knows the old argument. Bilbo hates it when Smaug reads his mind and lays his fears out without mercy. “I’m a dragon, Bilbo. I will not cave to your ridiculous insecurities when you should not have any reason to feel less than those you’ll encounter at this fair.”

“I know,” Bilbo replies. “But no hobbit has ever traveled so far. Even mother learned all of her cures from those that traveled to the Shire. Not the other way around.”

“I have every faith in your abilities.”

More scratches against his skin. Smaug resists the urge to purr in delight for only a short moment, and then gives in with a rumble. “You cheat,” he accuses, and enjoys Bilbo’s sharp laugh. “Fine. I will stop deducing your mood if you promise me that you’ll give yourself the credit you’re due.”

“All right, all right,” Bilbo says, laughing. “We’ll go to Dale and have a wonderful time, and somehow you’ll travel the fair with me without terrifying the citizens or getting us killed. Everything will be fine.”

“Sarcastic hobbit.”

“Arrogant prat.”

They land without issue, and Smaug settles on the ground. He stays perfectly still as Bilbo slides down his forearm to the ground beneath them. When the hobbit sets his feet to the earth, he stretches and sighs. “You’re a most delightful transport, but I still prefer walking.”

“And walk we shall,” Smaug replies, taking a moment to shake himself and stretch. “We’ve got a good five miles to travel before we arrive at the mountain. Fortunately, we have clear skies and early morning light to guide us. And your fair starts today, so you’ve not missed anything.”

Bilbo grins. “You giant optimist. You knew you’d get us here at exactly the right time, didn’t you?”

“Of course,” Smaug preens. “I’m a magnificent judge of time and space.”

“Prat,” Bilbo repeats, and they laugh together. “Are you ready?”

“Upon your command,” Smaug says, bowing and gesturing in the direction they’re going. “I shall be beside you the entire time.”

The five miles are slow-going, and Smaug’s bulk sometimes hinders them through brush. He’s sinuous, though, and manages to fit through trees even when he could easily burn them down around him. He somehow doesn’t think Bilbo would approve. 

“Can you see the town?”

Smaug pokes his head through the tree tops and glances towards Dale. “Indeed I do. We’ve less than a mile to go, though we’ll shortly be losing the tree cover.”

“Yes, well. Stay behind me then, and I’ll protect you.”

Smaug somehow manages not to laugh so hard that he sets the trees on fire. He knows he’s fighting a losing battle with his stubborn hobbit, so he drops back so that only his head is next to Bilbo, and his large body is slightly behind. They emerge from the tree line and look up the sloping mountain that leads to Dale. “From here I believe we climb,” Smaug says. “Of course, I could just take us up from here by wing, if you would prefer not to exhaust yourself.”

Bilbo glares at him. “You knew this was here, didn’t you?”

“Of course I did.”

“And you knew, despite landing miles away and tromping through the trees, we’d probably have to fly our way up to make it on time?”

“It was a possibility.”

“Smaug!”

Smaug shrugs. “I will stay close to the cliff face, and stop before we come across the rise. They will see us, but they will not have the chance to send arrows are way for fear they will hit other citizens making the climb.”

Bilbo huffs, tightens his pack around himself, and walks back to Smaug’s forearm. “I’m very annoyed with you right now!” he shouts.

Smaug doesn’t bother replying. He unfurls his wings, takes two great strides, and lifts them into the air. Within moments, they’re feet below the rise of the great mountain city of Dale.

Which is when the screaming starts. 

He lands gently, sets Bilbo to the ground, and curls back around the hobbit. “Shall we stay here for a bit, in hopes they decide to wait us out?”

“Don’t be stupid, of course not,” Bilbo says. “Say something polite to them! Tell them we don’t mean any harm and are here for the fair!”

Smaug rolls his eyes at the idea that might work. “If it pleases you, Bilbo. I’d wager your mother’s best meat pies that it will be in vain.”

“Just try it!”

Smaug turns his attention to the people of Dale, and lets out a mighty bellow. “Hear me, men of Dale!” he roars, and suddenly the scrambling on the other side of the cliff face stops. “My companion and I do not come with any intent but to visit your medicinal fair! Please do not be alarmed at my fire, claws, and fangs, for I will be sure to keep them to myself as long as we do not come to any harm from your citizens.”

With that, Smaug lowers himself back to the ground and says, “Well?”

“That probably could’ve gone worse,” Bilbo concedes, and Smaug laughs. “I suppose we should wait for them to reply in some manner.”

Minutes pass in tense silence, but no arrows are launched, and Smaug takes it as a good sign. Finally, a lone voice calls, “And why would we trust the word of a worm?”

“How dare you speak to him in such a manner?” Bilbo snarls, shooting to his feet and leaving the safety of Smaug’s claws. “Show yourself, coward, and I’ll give you reason enough to fear!”

Roars of laughter fill the air, and Smaug isn’t sure if they’re laughing at Bilbo or at the original speaker. Either way, Smaug reaches forward with his claws, picks up Bilbo by the back of his coat, and sets him down nearer to his own chest. “Really, and you have the audacity to yell at me?”

“I’ll not let anyone speak to you in such a manner.”

“I believe I could defend myself, but thank you, dear friend.”

“What manner of creature travels with you, dragon?” the speaker shouts. This time, though, Smaug can hear the curiosity in the voice. “That would be interested in our fair?”

Smaug looks at Bilbo. “Would you care to introduce yourself, or should I?”

“I am a hobbit,” Bilbo shouts. “One who would see your fair and learn from your healers, and share my own knowledge as well.”

Smaug can hear the men and dwarrows discussing them, and moves his head so he can eavesdrop further. “What’re they saying?” 

“Shh,” he shushes Bilbo. “I believe they’re agreeing to tentatively allow you access to the fair, as long as I behave myself.”

“I guess we’re doomed, then.”

Smaug gently knocks him into the dirt with a claw tip, ignoring Bilbo’s self-satisfied laughter. “Funny hobbit.”

“You love me.”

“Indeed.”

Bilbo grins more brightly than the sun. Smaug tries not to be distracted by the smile and listens to the discussion upon the crest of rock. And then, when he overhears the name of the speaker Bilbo called a coward, he can’t help a grin of his own. “What is it?”

Smaug shakes his head; he’ll let this play out on its own. Finally, the speaker emerges from the top of the ridge and a small party moves towards them. Bilbo crosses his arms over his chest at the approaching men and dwarrows. “Which of you is the speaker for your party?” he demands.

“I am,” says a dark-haired, blue-eyed dwarrow. 

Smaug watches with interest, especially as his friend seems to falter in his resolve. Bilbo swallows hard and then blurts out, “You owe my friend an apology for your insult.”

The dwarrow raises an eyebrow. “Do I?”

“Indeed! We traveled many miles to see the beauty and majesty of Erebor, after hearing of its citizens, and I cannot say our welcome has been warm thus far.”

“And do you think the mountain is beautiful?”

Bilbo gapes. There’s no other word for it. After a moment, he says, “From what little I’ve seen, it’s splendid. But that surely doesn’t excuse…”

“You are right,” the dwarrow says. “However, we are unused to the great Drakes announcing themselves as wishing to attend a medicinal fair, either. I must be cautious for my people, as they are my first priority.”

Bilbo relaxes slightly. “I would understand your concern; not all dragons are as kind and brilliant and adaptive as Smaug.”

Smaug sighs. “Honestly! I’m right here, I can speak for myself.”

Bilbo grins at him, turning his attention away from the dwarrow. Therefore it’s Smaug that catches the dwarrow’s incredulous expression and not Bilbo. “Then speak for yourself, why don’t you?”

“You’d been doing so well thus far,” Smaug replies, and drops down to the ground, resting his head on his forearms. He bares his teeth at a dwarrow who lifts his bow and arrow at the movement. “I wouldn’t try, if I were you.”

“Kili, hold,” the dark-haired dwarrow says. Bilbo is already moving between Smaug and the archer, and Smaug simply wraps a hand around Bilbo to protect him from any ‘stray’ arrows. “I wish you’d stop doing that,” Bilbo protests from the safety of Smaug’s fist.

“When you develop dragon hide, I’ll be happy to,” Smaug retorts. “Meanwhile, I believe I’ll be much better off doing as I please. Now, Prince Under the Mountain, do you intend to allow us to visit your fair, or not?”

The dark-haired dwarrow prince blinks, and Smaug makes an exasperated sound. “Thorin Oakenshield, son of Thrain, son of Thror, King Under the Mountain. Long have I known of you, dwarrow. Long have I flown above your mountain realm! Why would I wish to harm your citizens by walking to your door, when I could’ve chosen to bring the mountain down around you by surprise?”

“Smaug!” 

Smaug unclenches his fist to release his traveling companion and friend. “I speak truth, Bilbo. They will never get it through their thick skulls otherwise.”

Bilbo looks at Thorin and offers him a half smile. With a polite bow, he says, “Bilbo Baggins and Smaug, at your service.”

The dwarrow prince finally remembers some sense of manners and returns the bow, saying, “Thorin, son of Thrain, at yours. These are my companions Balin son of Fundin and Girion son of Giran. Welcome to Dale, Master Baggins. And… Smaug.”

“Finally,” Smaug says, and ignores the kick Bilbo aims at his claw. “May we see your city, now? And is that roast pork I smell?”


	3. Pork and Beans

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> THIS CHAPTER: The attributes of Thorin Oakenshield; Jam cakes; Dragon-versions of the shovel speech; Plotting with nephews.

Smaug is glad to have given Bilbo some of his golden hoard when he decided to remain in the Shire, for now Bilbo uses it to buy one of the roasted pigs for Smaug’s enjoyment. They’ve found lodging not in the city proper, but higher up on the cliff in an unused cavern of Erebor. Smaug munches on his pig while Bilbo eats a foul-smelling concoction of vegetables and beans. “I’m sorry I was not able to travel with you more freely in the fair,” Smaug says, breaking their otherwise comfortable silence. “From what I overheard, it seems you’ve been quite successful in making acquaintances with men, elves, and dwarrows alike.”

“I think they think they have to be nice to me, or you’ll eat them.”

Smaug laughs. “I doubt that’s why the dwarrow prince spent half a day with you,” he says.

And oh, isn’t that telling, the blush on Bilbo’s face? “Did you enjoy spending time with him, or was he as horrible as he smelled? And all that hair…”

“Don’t be uncharitable,” Bilbo replies. “Prince Thorin was very pleasant and proper and didn’t smell at all. And his hair looked soft, not… oh. Oh, you rotten beast, you said that on purpose, didn’t you?”

Smaug gloats appropriately. 

“But he’s a prince,” Bilbo says. 

“Are you trying to say you think he’s too good for you?” Smaug asks, trying and failing not to sound incensed. “Is that what I hear?”

“No! But…” 

“I will not be forced to listen to you slander your own name, Bilbo Baggins.”

“I’m not! It’s just… he’s rather intimidating, is all. He’s so posh and proper and I’m. Well, I’m me.”

“You’re one of the most highly respected citizens of the Shire.”

“I’m also the odd one who’s best friend breathes fire.”

“Which just shows your exceptional taste! He would be lucky to be included amongst your friends, let alone anything more.”

Bilbo gestures to Smaug and he drops his head to be eye-to-eye with the hobbit. Bilbo reaches out and wraps both arms around Smaug’s snout, giving him a hobbit hug. “I love you, my friend.”

“And I you. But I ask you to reconsider your thoughts, dearest hobbit. He would make an interesting match if he were to pursue you, or vice versa.”

“You think I should pursue him?”

Smaug nudges Bilbo with his snout. “I can smell your desire for him, remember. The dwarrow’s blockish features and awkward personality appeal to you.”

“I just must love those with challenging personalities.”

Smaug sniffs, pleased the noise makes Bilbo laugh instead of frown. “I would fill your dowry, would he need one.”

“Smaug! I’ve spent four hours with him, I’m not quite ready to start discussing marriage arrangements!”

“Dwarrows don’t need four hours. If you are his match, he already knows.”

“How do you know that?”

Smaug shrugs. “It is dwarven culture. They believe that they have a ‘One’; their perfect match and true partner. Like the soulmates your mother reads about in those terrible novels she likes. They believe Aulë – or rather, Mahal – made them to have one perfect fit. And besides, the prince can marry for love if he wishes; his sister’s sons would take the Durin line into the next generation. Or were you not listening when he spoke to you of the dwarrowlings Fili and Kili?”

“I was listening! I just didn’t realize _you_ were listening.”

“Of course I was listening, don’t be ridiculous. Like I was going anywhere out of earshot to ensure your safety. Or I’d never be able to go back to the Shire!”

“We’d better not tell anyone how terrified you are of my mother,” Bilbo teases.

“Indeed.”

~

Days pass; Smaug notices the hobbit spending more and more time with the prince and the pair of them attending festival activities with Smaug in tow. This particular morning finds him awakening later than Bilbo intended; at least, from what Smaug can tell as Bilbo scurries around their makeshift campsite to dress and wash his face from the bagged skins. “Are you all right?”

“I was supposed to meet Oin this morning to discuss kingsfoil and arrowroot!” Bilbo says, from inside his shirt. Smaug watches in amusement as his hobbit sticks an arm out of his neck hole and tries to get his head through an armhole. “Oh! This is intolerable!”

Smaug wraps one clawed hand around his hobbit to keep him still. “Take a moment to breathe, Bilbo. I’m sure every dwarrow and man and elf in Dale knows exactly where you are and what you’re doing.”

“That’s not helpful!” Bilbo shouts, but stops hurrying nonetheless. Arms and head appear from the proper shirt holes and Bilbo manages to put on his vest without issue. “I just don’t want to keep him waiting.”

“Where are you meeting him?”

“I was going to meet him by the Sweetbriar Pub at half nine,” Bilbo replies. “And it’s almost time for me to meet him! I’m late!”

“You’re useless in the morning. I shall go and tell him you’ll be a few minutes late. Finish dressing and I’ll be right back.” 

With a slight bend to his knees, Smaug lifts himself into the air and glides down the mountain. He hovers over the appropriate pub and says politely, “Good morning, I’m looking for Oin. Is he here?”

“I’m here,” a gruff voice responds. “You’re Master Bilbo’s friend, then?”

“Yes. Unfortunately, I’m more functional in the morning than he. He asks that you extend him a few extra moments to join you this morning.”

“The lad’s a good one; I’ll wait.”

“My thanks.”

With that, Smaug catches the wind and rises to rejoin Bilbo. “He will wait for you. If you ever finish dressing! Bilbo, what in Middle Earth are you doing?”

“Sewing a hole,” the hobbit replies, holding up the needle and thread for Smaug to see. “I’ve a hole in my trousers, and I can’t…”

“In a moment, you’ll not have trousers at all because I will set them ablaze! Come now, let’s be off!”

Bilbo mutters to himself but finishes mending his trousers, then slips them on. “I didn’t want to meet him looking less than my best here.”

“So he can report back to the prince how lovely you are?”

“Shush!” 

Smaug chuckles, sets down carefully between a fountain, the pub, and a house. He rests a wing on the pub’s roof so that he can allow Bilbo to dismount without him coming to harm. “Good morning,Oin! Oh,and Gloin! Nice to see you too.”

“Good morning, Master Baggins!” the dwarrows chime, smiling at the hobbit. “And thank you again for alerting us to his delay,” Gloin says to Smaug, making Smaug blink. “Very polite of you.”

“I would suggest making all future plans in the afternoon,” Smaug offers, ignoring Bilbo’s noise of protest. “For your own sakes.”

“I’m not that bad!”

“You’re right. You’re worse.”

The dwarrows watch the interplay with a mix of caution and amusement, and then the threesome heads into the pub. Smaug settles himself to wait, watching the people around him eye him suspiciously. That is, until a female child with bright blonde hair approaches him. “You’re a real dragon!” the child says.

“Indeed.”

“Momma says you’re scary but I don’t think you are.”

Smaug lowers his head so that he can be closer to eye level with the child. “You don’t?”

“No, you’re pretty! You’re so bright and red!” 

Smaug knows he probably shouldn’t encourage her, but he leans his head toward her frame. “You may touch my scales, if you wish.”

“Really?” the child squeals and places her small hand against his cheek. “You’re so warm!”

And sticky, Smaug realizes. “Child, what have you been eating?”

“Jam cakes!”

Marvelous. Smaug has a raspberry-coated cheek. “Hmm. Obviously washing your hands would’ve been asking too much.”

The child steps back. “I’m sorry,” she says, looking forlorn.

“It’s all right. A bit of jam never hurt anyone.”

“That’s not actually true,” a voice from the doorway of the pub interrupts. “Many years ago, someone mysteriously ate all of my mother’s jam cakes. She’d made dozens and dozens of them for my cousin’s birthday, but on the day of the party, she discovered they were all gone as if by magic! And our only clue as to where they’d gone was a dragon rolling on the ground with a terrible tummy ache.”

Several people burst into laughter and Smaug arches an eyebrow at his friend. “If we’re sharing embarrassing stories, I’m sure I could offer a few in return,” he says, sniffing haughtily. “Something about Lobelia’s missing underthings?”

Bilbo, much to Smaug’s delight, blushes a deeper red than Smaug’s scales. “I’ll pay you back for that,” the hobbit declares, but grins widely. “Prat.”

Smaug grins in return. The child, he notices, has not moved from his head. “What is your name, little one?”

“Melia.”

“And where is your mother?”

“She’s serving food in the pub. I’m supposed to stay in the kitchen.”

“Well, then perhaps you should return so not to give her a fright if she can’t find you. You may go with my friend Bilbo, and he’ll make sure you get there safely.”

“That’s a grand idea,” Bilbo says. “Melia! Let’s sneak back inside before your mum notices you’re gone. And I’ll be back to you shortly,” he adds for Smaug’s benefit. “So stay put.”

Smaug rolls his eyes, and says to no one in particular, “Demanding creature.”

But as he waits for Bilbo, he notices something about those in his immediate surroundings; they don’t look half as suspicious as they had an hour before. He fusses with a scale on his forearm and ignores everyone, waiting for Bilbo to return.

When his hobbit finally emerges, he huffs, “What took you so long?”

“I had to convince a child that no, she couldn’t keep you as a pet.”

“Pet!”

Bilbo holds up his hands in a sign of surrender. “I’m not the one who told her that she could stroke my cheek if she so pleased.”

“Pet,” Smaug grumbles. “Like I’m no better than a houseplant.”

“Well, you’re certainly a large houseplant,” Bilbo says, and smiles at him. “Meanwhile, Gloin and Oin have offered us an invitation to see Erebor properly. They believe you’ll be able to squeeze through the main gate, and if you can, you’ll definitely be able to see the rest of the city! Imagine it, wouldn’t that be lovely?”

“And are we to expect a specific tour guide? One with dark hair, perhaps?”

Bilbo’s blush returns and he clears his throat loudly, glaring at Smaug. “I didn’t ask and nor will you,” he says, growling. “Or else!”

Smaug sees an opportunity and bides his time for the right moment to tease his friend more. “As you like, my dearest hobbit. I would be happy to follow you into the mountain.”

The task of squeezing through the main gates is a difficult one; in the end, Smaug scrapes the main gate with a claw to widen it enough for him to pass without destroying the entranceway. But once he enters Erebor properly, he can’t help but be impressed by the towering ceilings and deep mines. “I could let my wings out in that mine,” he says, wonderingly, as he stares into a deep chasm in the earth. “Fascinating. I’d never thought your people would be able to make such wide spaces, Prince Thorin.” And oh, how Bilbo had beamed when the prince had joined their impromptu tour. 

“Dwarrows know their mines, Lord Dragon.”

“Smaug, if you please.”

“And you must call me Bilbo. I won’t stand on formality either.”

“Then you must call me Thorin,” the dwarrow replied. “My ancestors have long searched in the heart of the mountain for her treasures.”

“Is it true, the rumors that you have a room of gold?”

Both Bilbo and Thorin turn to him as one, and he pastes an innocent look upon his face. “How have you heard of such a thing?” Thorin demands. 

“It’s possible that dragons speak of treasure amongst our own kind. I couldn’t help but be curious as to whether or not it was true.”

“Such a room may exist, but it’s not for viewing by outsiders.”

Smaug dips his long neck. “I would set your mind at ease, then; while dragons search for vast hoards, we tend to be very contented when we find our gold.” Smaug pauses to nudge Bilbo. “I found mine some time ago, and do not require anything more.”

Bilbo smiles brightly and tosses his arms around Smaug’s snout. “You great sap. You’re my treasure as well.”

Smaug smiles. “But, of course, on certain occasions we find it appropriate to share treasure. If one is worthy.”

Thorin’s eyebrows climb into his hairline. “Is that so?”

“I’d also like to remind you that should you choose to hurt said treasure, you are very small and crunchy and flammable…”

Bilbo’s coughing fit halts Smaug’s sentence. “All right then!” he says, clapping his hands. “Who’s ready to keep this tour moving and talk about anything else? Anyone? Please?”

With that, he shoots Smaug a dark look. Smaug ignores him and says, “I believe I’ll go sit up in the arches above us. All of this space is perfect for a short flight and perch. Enjoy your tour, my friend.”

It doesn’t take Smaug long to find a wide space in the rafters and curl up around himself. He feels justified in warning the dwarrow prince not to harm his hobbit. After all, the hobbit was his treasure first.

An hour passes while Smaug lazes about; as he’s about to fall asleep, two sets of footsteps come from a tunnel behind him, with soft whisperings. Two dwarrows then, trying to sneak up on him. “I can hear you both, you know,” he says, and the conversation dies behind him. “Come into the light, both of you. Don’t be shy.”

One blond and one brunet dwarrow step into view. “I would assume you’re Thorin’s nephews,” Smaug says, after giving them a critiquing glance. “Correct?”

“We are Fili and Kili, sons of Dis, nephews of Thorin, at your service,” says the older blond. They bow to him in tandem. 

Smaug dips his head in return. “I am Smaug. A pleasure to make your acquaintance.”

“The pleasure is ours!” says Kili, grinning. “That was a lovely job you did of warning off Uncle! I thought I’d never seen anything so well said.”

Smaug looks between them and they grin back at him. “Is that so?”

“Oh, yes!” the younger continues. “For we thought it was only our imagining that Uncle looked at Bilbo in such a manner! Dwalin and Balin keep telling us that we’re being silly, but we know Uncle so well and just knew he like Bilbo that way!”

Smaug desperately tries not to laugh at the enthusiasm of the pair. “And what does that have to do with me?”

“You see it too!” Fili says. “You see that Bilbo could be Thorin’s One, but Uncle… he’s so stubborn! He probably won’t ask either of you to stay past the close of the festival at week’s end, even though he desperately wants to!”

“And are we to manufacture some reason for us to stay?”

“Well, your Bilbo’s way home. What if you found some reason not to want to let him leave right away?”

“You want me to lie to him.”

With that, the two younglings look at each other, and then back to Smaug. “Yes.” Fili says. “Uncle can be mad at us all he likes, but we can’t let Bilbo leave without giving him a chance!”

Smaug drops his head down to give them both direct eye contact. “It would be a great pleasure to help you,” he says, and grins. “For I too would wish my friend to be happy, and I believe he’s infatuated with your uncle as well.”

The two dwarrows cheer, and Smaug can’t help but laugh at them. “How shall we do it, then? Did you want us to help you pretend to sprain a wing? Or…”

“Would one of you be willing to trust me with your life? For I have an idea, but it might result in a great lot of trouble for you.”

“Tell us!”

“If one of you were to get too close to the ledge and tumble off, I’d be forced to dive after you and pluck you out of midair. It might end up in shouting, but I’d not let you come to harm.”

Both dwarrows peer over the ledge, looking into the darkness of the mineshaft beneath them. “That’s a long way to fall,” the blond says, swallowing hard. “Mahal, I’m not good with heights.”

“I could do it. It might be fun!”

“And I, of course, would hurt my wing in the process of saving you, and we’d have to stay.”

“All right. When do we do this?”

Smaug sweeps out a wing and knocks the dwarrowling off the ledge. “Now.”

Kili screams bloody murder as he tumbles down, and Smaug plunges over the side, pulling his wings back to gain speed. About a hundred feet into the dark, he catches the dwarrowling in a clawed hand and throws open his wings to halt his descent. “I’ve got you, child,” he says, chuckling. “You will come to no harm in my care.”

“That was amazing!” Kili shouts, laughing, and Smaug shushes him. Then, Smaug purposefully scrapes his wing against the wall, hard enough to tear skin and create a wound but not hard enough to cause permanent damage. “Ready?”

The dwarrowling nods and they start their ascent. They return to the surface of the mineshaft where they are greeted by Bilbo and Thorin’s horrified faces. Smaug purposefully crushes one wing to his chest and awkwardly flaps with the other. He sets Kili on the ground and half-crashes down next to him. Cries of “Kili!” and “Smaug!” rent the air.

“What happened?!?”

“Uncle, it was terrible!” Kili says, and Smaug watches as Fili pushes through the crowd to join his sibling. “We went to visit Smaug high in the mountain, and while we were up there, I wanted to look over the edge to see the whole mountain from that view, but part of the ground crumbled beneath me and I slipped!”

Bilbo’s hands tightened around Smaug’s claw. “He could’ve been killed! You saved him, my friend!”

“But at a cost,” Smaug says, wincing. “I could no more let the child fall, but the wall of the mine caught my wing. I would not dare to fly us home yet in this condition, Bilbo. It would be most dangerous.”

“You will stay here as our guests,” Thorin says, lifting his head from where his arms are around both of his nephews. “Truly, you have done me a service that I could never repay. I insist that we must do whatever we can to honor this life debt.”

“It was my pleasure to catch him,” Smaug says, truthfully. “The fault is my own for hiding someplace that inquisitive younglings would come seek my presence there. And I would be happy with more of their company, mischievous though they may be.”

Bilbo glances between Fili, Kili, and Smaug, and Smaug can almost see him putting the pieces together. To distract his hobbit, Smaug flaps his wounded wing and makes a noise of pain. “Bilbo, would you see to this wound, please?”

“Of course, dearest. Thorin, would you show us somewhere private, perhaps? Where I could tend to my dragon?”

“Follow me.”

A balding dwarrow and two others prevent any from following. Once the party is more or less alone, Smaug catches Fili’s eye and winks at him.

The dwarrow child grins.


	4. Meeting the Neighbors

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> THIS CHAPTER: Bored and recovering; Low-flying dragon; the athleticism of elves; Fear of mothers.

Smaug wouldn’t mind being ‘wounded’ if it wasn’t so terribly boring. Two weeks pass; he adores the two little dwarrows for entertaining him, and appreciates the abundance of roasted pork, and is grateful for the healers that change poultices on his scrapes and bumps. He’s even been allowed into the famed treasure room, where he’d had the best night’s sleep in Thror’s piles of gold.

But he misses Bilbo. And Bilbo’s been spending most of his free time with Thorin, only spending a few hours a day with Smaug.

“You miss him?” Dis asks, knowingly.

With meeting the dwarrowling princes – and ‘saving’ Kili’s life – came meeting their mother. Smaug believes her to be even sharper than her brother and he greatly approves of her presence. “I do.”

“But you know he’s my brother’s One.”

“Yes. I might’ve realized it before your brother did.”

She laughs, settles herself into the stone chair she’s dragged into the treasure room with her. “I believe the best way to get Thorin’s attention is to smack him soundly with a rock. So you hide in here and sulk in the meantime?”

“I don’t sulk,” Smaug corrects. “Though I miss him, I enjoy this chance to sleep on your grandfather’s gold.”

“I don’t think it makes Grandfather very happy, though,” she says, laughing. Dis strokes her beard. “But your wing is healed, is it not?”

“It is. We dragons heal quickly. It is a gift of the Maiar.”

“Then why do you not venture outside for a while? I know my sons would be pleased to keep your company, if you wished for it.”

“I know,” Smaug sulks. “I fully realize the ridiculousness of my predicament, my lady. It doesn’t make it any easier.”

“I can’t imagine your position,” she says. “For Bilbo is not only your friend, but the object you consider your treasure. And though his love for you is unwavering, it doesn’t make his absence hurt any less.”

“Exactly,” Smaug replies. Then he perks. “His love for me is unwavering?”

“Oh, Smaug,” Dis sighs. “What do you think he talks about when he and my brother talk? He tells stories of his mother and his time spent with you. I feel I know you all the more for it. If you were hoping to have the reputation as some sort of fell creature, you’re going to be sorely disappointed.”

“He’s telling the jam cake story again, isn’t he.”

Dis bursts into peals of laughter. “He did indeed. Though I admit, he’s also told a few tales at his own expense as well.”

Smaug props his head up on his forearms. “So you recommend fresh air and flying as a remedy to what ails me?”

“I don’t know if it will solve your problem, but it might make you feel a bit less glum.”

“I don’t suppose your offspring would wish to accompany me.”

“I’m sure they would be delighted. My youngest especially. I think he feels you’ve hung the moon and stars.”

“I find myself very fond of both of them as well, Lady Dis.”

“Then find them and send them to you, I shall. I do enjoy speaking with you, Smaug. You are both a wise and witty conversationalist.”

“As are you.”

She leaves him and he sighs, waiting for the sounds of dwarrowling feet. It doesn’t take long for the two to come flying around the corner and into his space. “Smaug! Are we going flying with you?”

“Flying but no falling this time, if you please,” he says, smiling at both of them. “Come! Let us be out of doors. Fili, if you would stand on my forearm, I will lift you to a safe place for you to sit on my back.”

The dwarrows climb upon him and settle into his scales; he warns them both to hold on, and not shift about so they’ll remain safe. Then, when he’s certain not to drop them, he pushes upward and flies toward the great stone doors.

It takes a bit of maneuvering not to squash the pair, but Smaug makes it outside and takes off high overhead, listening to the two dwarrowlings squeal with both terror (Fili) and delight (Kili). They soar over Dale, past Esgaroth and over the great lake at the foot of the mountain. Smaug skirts along the edge of Mirkwood, allowing the two on his back to ooo and aah at the trees. “This is the best thing ever!” Kili shouts, and Smaug rumbles a laugh. “Thank you, Smaug!”

Smaug hears the high-whistle before he sees the arrow, and dives toward the earth to avoid it. “Hold on, dwarrowlings!” he shouts, and twists as a second iron arrow shoots towards them. Fili screams and Smaug orders, “Quiet, child! Otherwise I cannot hear their attack!”

The command comes too late. An arrow grazes across Smaug’s belly and to avoid any other arrows he lands along the edge of the lake, deep in the trees. “Boys! Are you all right?”

“We’re not hurt, Smaug, but are you all right?”

“No iron will pierce my hide, Fili,” he replies, and snarls at the sounds of feet rushing toward them. “Boys, on your lives, you must stay still. Would you do that for me?”

“Yes, Smaug,” they chime, for once realizing the seriousness of the situation and behaving themselves. “We promise!”

It doesn’t take long for the elves to surround Smaug. In Sindarin, he snarls at them, “Who dares attack the princes of Erebor?”

This causes the elves to pause in their movements. A redheaded she-elf and a blond elf in a crown slowly approach. “You claim association with Erebor?” the blond asks.

“I do indeed! I bear the grandchildren of the king on my back. How dare you attack them for no reason?”

“Our apologies, dragon,” the blond replies. “I am Legolas Greenleaf, son of Thranduil, King of Mirkwood. You are the friend of the hobbit, then, but I did not know the Dwarrows of Erebor associated with a Drake of the North!”

“I am Smaug, and indeed friend to the hobbit. As such I am more adaptable at being friendly with many species in Middle Earth. I would call you neighbor as well, Prince of Mirkwood, if you would but stop shooting at me and my charges!”

Legolas inclines his head. In Common, he replies, “We have met one of the Drakes of the North before, and his was not a friendly association. We bid you welcome to our wood, great Smaug. And we welcome the princes of Erebor as well, and call you friends.”

“Thank you!” Fili replies, before Smaug can speak. “We understand that you must do everything possible to protect your borders, for our family bore Smaug the same distrust when we first met him. But he is both wise and kind, and we are glad to have met him.”

“Clearly,” the elven prince replies, and smiles a subtle half-smile at them. “For you seem to be enjoying yourselves immensely.”

“It’s wonderful fun!” Kili shouts. “Though my brother fears the height.”

“Shut up!”

Smaug can feel the two mock-wrestling on his back and turns his head to clear his throat at them. “Boys,” he chides. 

“Sorry, Smaug,” they reply.

Smaug can’t help but laugh. The humor breaks what’s left of the tension with the elves and Smaug can see them slightly relaxing as well. He can also see the longing on Legolas’ face. “I would offer you the chance to try a flight, but I don’t believe three passengers would be considered safe.”

“We could stay here for a bit,” Fili offers, tapping Smaug on the back. “If he wanted a chance to fly?”

“You would be amenable to such a thing?” Legolas asks, looking surprised. “Truly?”

Smaug wonders how old the elf is, and smiles at the fact that he looks like a child again. “If my charges are willing to rest here with your guard, then I have no objections. Perhaps your flame-haired companion would enjoy accompanying you, to make sure I’m sincere in my offer?”

“’She’ is Tauriel, Captain of our Guard. And yes, I would very much enjoy accompanying my prince,” the she-elf replies, giving Smaug a strong look. “Since you offered.”

Smaug uses his forearm to lift the dwarrow princes off of his back and steady them on the solid ground. Then, he offers his arm to the elves, who use it to vault onto his back. “The agility of elves is a thing of great amazement,” Smaug says, as Fili and Kili gape at the pair. 

The two elves look smug at the comment, and without further delay Smaug rises into the air. After a short flight, he returns the pair to their elven companions and sets his dwarrowlings firmly upon his back. “We thank you for your generosity, Smaug, friend to Elf and Dwarrow alike,” the Prince of Mirkwood says with a slight bow. “May you return to us as you please as an always-welcome guest.”

“Oh, and you must come to Erebor!” Fili says, beaming a smile. “You would be most welcome in our halls, Prince Legolas, for we could show you the beauty of our kingdom as well!”

Smaug watches the elf’s face and can tell immediately that the residents of Mirkwood will never travel to Erebor. “Your offer is generous, Prince Fili,” Legolas responds. “And you and your brother are most welcome in my home as well.”

“Thank you, kind prince,” Smaug replies. “And now we must return, before I worry their mother and have to fear for my hide!”

Smaug rises from the ground and flies over the lake, heading back to Dale and Erebor. The two brothers chatter excitedly about the elves, and how beautiful and majestic and kind they were. “Do you think they’ll ever visit?” Kili asks.

“I believe it will be decided by Legolas’ father and your grandfather, dwarrowling.”

Smaug can hear the frown in Kili’s voice as he says, “Then they’ll never come.”

“Don’t say never,” Smaug gently suggests. “For I never thought I’d be living in a Shire with hobbits for the last twenty years, or be considered a welcome guest in the Lonely Mountain, either. You never know what lies in store for your futures, young ones. And one day, Fili and Legolas will both be kings, and who knows what will occur at that time?” 

“I know why I’d be crowned king, Smaug, and I wish for that day never to come!”

Smaug dips his head. “Perhaps you could talk your mother into inviting them, then. Have her bend Thorin’s ear and your grandfather’s as well.”

“Do you think that would work?”

“You don’t know until you try, young one.” 

Fili makes a thoughtful noise and Smaug hides a smile. When they return to Erebor, the two princes disappear immediately into the hall, calling for their mother. Smaug can’t help but proudly watch them go.

“And what trouble have you been causing today with those two?” 

Smaug lets out a long sigh, pushes his head into his beloved friend’s body. Small arms wrap around his snout and hug him tightly. “We met some of Erebor’s neighbors and make new acquaintances.”

“Oh?”

“Mmm. I might’ve been flying a bit too close to Mirkwood, and…”

“Elves, Smaug? Really?”

“I’ll have you know I had the Prince of Mirkwood riding upon me earlier today, and no one was harmed. And the two dwarrowlings…”

“ _SMAUG!_ ” Dis’ voice roars as loud as any dragon’s.

Smaug flinches and almost bowls Bilbo over. “Hide me?” he asks, meekly.

Bilbo laughs. “I believe you’ve brought this upon yourself, my dear.”

Smaug folds himself down as small as possible as the princess of Erebor storms towards them. “Smaug! I’ve just heard the most impossible tale from my sons!”

“Improbable.”

She stops mid-stride. “What?”

“It is not impossible, my lady. Merely improbable, but it indeed occurred.”

“Are you sassing me, dragon?”

Smaug folds himself further. “No, my lady.”

She glares at him so vehemently that he’s amazed he doesn’t spontaneously burst into flame. Suddenly he’s glad that no one ever figured out it had been he who shoved Kili off the cliff. “I’m sorry?” he tries.

She crosses her arms over her chest. “You took them to visit the Elves,” she says, spitting the word ‘elf’ the same way one would say ‘murderer’. “Elves, Smaug. My children wish to invite elves here.”

“It would make for good relations and strengthen your borders, my lady.”

“Elves!”

Smaug looks to Bilbo, who’s no help whatsoever. He tries, “Elves aren’t evil, my lady.”

She continues glaring and her sons creep toward them from the passageway. “It pains me to know you’re correct,” she finally says, blowing out a breath. “Mind you, the next time you and my sons decide to embark on a diplomatic mission, I’d appreciate that you at least think to tell me first.”

“Diplomatic… yes, of course, a diplomatic mission. It wasn’t our intent, but while we were nearby…”

Dis growls at him, spins on her heel, and stomps away. Smaug watches her go, then gazes at Kili and Fili. “Your mother is terrifying.”

They nod. “Tell me quickly, diplomatic mission?”

“We thought it best not to mention they were shooting at us,” Fili says. Smaug nods.

“They were _what_?”

Bilbo. In his haste to talk to the boys, he’d forgotten his best friend. “Shh!” he says, poking Bilbo in the side to silence him. “Say nothing!”

“They were shooting at you?” Bilbo hisses at the three of them. “With arrows?”

“They grazed Smaug, but he protected us! And then he protected us when we landed, and even gave the elf prince Legolas a ride!”

“Something tells me I’m better off not hearing the entirety of this tale,” Bilbo says, giving Smaug a look.

At this rate, Smaug may never be able to unfurl from his tiny, tiny coil of shame. “Perhaps not,” he agrees, not meeting Bilbo’s gaze.

“You three will be the death of us all, you know,” Bilbo replies, but his laughter gives him away. He again reaches for Smaug and snuggles into to Smaug’s snout. “How I love you, my friend.”

“As I love you,” Smaug returns. “And I would not have allowed the dwarrowlings to come to harm. I would’ve incinerated the great wood had the elves not seen sense.”

“I’m not sure if that makes me happy or nervous.”

“Both?”

The two dwarrows laugh and join in their impromptu hugging session. Smaug wraps his tail around the three small bodies and pulls them closer to his chest. “Mine,” he says, humor lacing his voice.

“Yours,” Bilbo agrees.

“Yours!”

“Yours.”

Maybe he might not have Bilbo’s complete attention, but he gains a little more treasure with Bilbo’s attachment to Thorin. It’s not a bad trade, he guesses.

Dragons always like more treasure to hoard.


	5. The Wrath of Dragons

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> THIS CHAPTER: Awkward dinners; Writing letters; Missing the Shire; Outside invaders; Celebrating Smaug. (Warning for violence in this chapter)

Dinner with the elves would best be remembered for being the most stressful, awkward event in Smaug’s memory of time.

Thranduil, Thror, and Thrain would not speak to one another. Thorin’s and Dis’ attempts to strike up conversation with the elf king were not well received. The silence broke thanks to Bilbo, Legolas, Fili and Kili directing most of the conversation, which was horribly stilted as the younger princes did not have the most appropriate topics to discuss. Finally, after deciding not to sneeze and ‘accidently’ catch the curtains on fire so they could escape, Smaug offered stories of his long life, and Bilbo offered a few stories, and peace was found in the telling of tales.

Thank Aulë, otherwise the curtains were doomed to burn.

At the end of the meal, Smaug follows Bilbo into the main hall and all but collapses on the walkway. “That was the worst event I’ve ever attended,” he groans. “You?”

“The worst. At least the dwarrowlings and Legolas seemed to get along.”

“Ha. You’re doing it too.”

“Hmm?”

“The dwarrowlings. They’re older than you are, you know.”

“I believe I’ve picked up your habit, my dear.”

“Indeed.”

“I was actually hoping for an attack on the city to make that dinner end,” Bilbo confesses, sending Smaug into a fit of laughter. “Don’t laugh! It’s no joke!”

“Dear friend, you misunderstand. At one point, I almost sneezed to catch the curtains on fire so we could make our escape.”

Footsteps alert them to visitors, and they bring themselves back to peace. Fili, Kili, and Legolas enter the hall, all of them sighing in relief to be away from the spotlight of the dining hall. “Why does Great-grandfather refuse to speak?” Fili demands of Smaug when he sees him. “I don’t understand!”

“It’s old animosities,” Legolas answers for Smaug. “They will not see past what is past, and it prevents them from making amends.”

“But that’s silly!”

“They are much older than you, Fili,” Smaug says, and curls his tail around the dwarrow in a semblance of an embrace. The blond dwarrow rests his head against Smaug’s scales. Kili, never to be left out, squirms against them both. “Be generous with your elders,” he says. “No matter how frustrating they are. It is their burden not to see the good in uniting your kingdoms under the banners of friendship. That your mother could pull this meal off at all is a great step in the right direction.”

“And I will be urging my father to offer the same invitation in return,” Legolas says, determined. “I would not so easily cut off allies and friends as this.”

“We are honored by your offer, Legolas,” Fili replies. “And would gratefully accept any welcome to your home. I would apologize on behalf of our elders.”

“And you must accept my apology for my father’s stubbornness as well. It’s hard to change an elf’s mind, when it is decided.”

“And yet we easily changed your mind in an offer of friendship,” Kili teases. “Or was that simply because you wished to ride a dragon?”

Legolas full-out smiles, and the two dwarrow princes blink in shock at their oft-restrained friend. “Indeed, I confess that might’ve played some part in my decision,” the prince admits, laughing softly. “It was both exciting and an honor.”

“The honor was mine, child,” Smaug replies. Legolas frowns at the word child, sending the dwarrowlings into gales of laughter. 

“He does the same to us! It’s ‘dwarrowling’ this and ‘dwarrowling’ that. Sometimes I think it’s age, and he can’t remember our names!” Kili says, laughing.

“Oh really,” Smaug says, squeezing his tail a tiny bit tighter around the two dwarrows. They both squeak and giggle. “Perhaps I should just eat the pair of you, and save myself the trouble of remembering your names in the future!”

“NoooOOOooo,” they moan, laughing. “No, great Smaug, don’t eat us! We’d taste terrible!”

Bilbo’s laughter mingles with Legolas’, and suddenly from the doorway more voices join in the amusement. Smaug sees Dis, and Thorin, and most surprisingly Thranduil silently watching the play. The elf king watches his son’s face, and Legolas meets his gaze, still smiling widely. The king tips his head and Smaug thinks that maybe, just maybe, there’s hope after all. To break the moment, he says, “What say you, Dis? Should I rid you of these frustrating children?”

“NoooOOO, mother, save us!” 

“Don’t let him eat us!”

“Hmm,” Dis says, and rubs her beard. She’s also grinning. “You make a mighty tempting offer, Smaug, but I may miss them after awhile.”

“Yay! Mother saved us!”

“And besides, they might give you a terrible stomachache.”

“Hey!”

~

Days later, Bilbo’s writing letters to the Shire, laying on Smaug’s back with his feet propped against Smaug’s scales. He reads the letter to Smaug, and asks, “What did I forget to mention to mother?”

“I don’t hear much about the prince asking permission to court you properly,” Smaug says, and grins at his friend’s expression. “Or did I miss something with that new braid and bead in your hair?”

“I don’t want to know how you know what this braid means,” Bilbo says, sighing. “How is it you know more of dwarrow culture than I do?”

“I have a spy network,” Smaug replies. “And I inquired as to the meaning of that particular braid pattern.”

“Damn dwarrowlings.”

Smaug snorts. “So why do you not tell her?”

“Because I don’t want to tell her yet that I don’t believe we’ll be going back.”

The comment makes Smaug pause; he had known that by Bilbo joining with the crowned prince of Erebor, they’d be staying. He just hadn’t realized that Bilbo was troubled by it. “You knew this, going in, that he’d never be able to leave his mountain or his people.”

“Yes,” Bilbo replies. “And I would not trade his love for anything. He is kind and good both inside and out. But, I miss the idea of the Shire, too. I cannot help but be a little homesick for what I’ve left behind.”

“I would go and fetch Belladonna here, if it would make you happy, dear friend. You have other options, you know.”

“I know. And I am deeply grateful for your offer. I may indeed take you up on it. But for now, I am still…”

“Enjoying your own space with your chosen mate?”

Bilbo makes a noise of agreement. “I know it’s terribly selfish of me.”

“Nonsense,” Smaug says. “You already have one overprotective chaperone. Adding your mother into the mix would be cruel to your dwarrow.”

Bilbo giggles. “Agreed. Well, I think that ends the letter, then. I’m off to find one of the ravens and see if I can tempt them to deliver my missive.”

“I will be here if you need anything.”

“You’re not off to see your spies?” Bilbo teases.

“Later this afternoon. They’re off to the market in Dale today and I thought I’d go along, maybe take a short flight and stretch my wings.”

“I love that you love them so.”

“Well. They’re rather agreeable, for dwarrowlings.”

Bilbo slides off of his back and starts down one of the long hallways towards the aviary. Smaug shakes his head and slumps back to the ground, snoozing. He considers sticking his head into one of the kitchens and seeing whether or not the chefs have roasted him a calf or pig yet. Or perhaps seeking the company of the Lady Dis, and engaging her in another conversation.

Each day brings him more reason to wish to stay as well. His treasure has expanded to include the residents of Erebor, and even an elf (or two), and he sees no reason to leave them behind. Though he does miss the pleasure of Belladonna, he never felt such a kinship for the rest of the Hobbiton residents as he finds here.

“Help, Lord Smaug! Help!”

Smaug’s musings are cut short by the frantic cries of the guards of Erebor. He shoots to his feet as one of the guards comes scrambling into the main hall. “Dragons! Four of them, and they are attacking the city of Dale!”

Smaug doesn’t think; he doesn’t hesitate. He falls into the most immediate blood rage he’s felt in more than twenty years. He roars, letting the fire build in his chest, snarling, “ _They dare attack my hoard? My teeth are swords! My claws are spears! My wings are a HURRICANE and I will rip them from this mountain!_ ”

There is no delicate exit from the gates of Erebor now; Smaug explodes through them with one powerful burst, sending rock and stone shooting into the sky as he unleashes the full power of his fire into the face of the first dragon he sees. 

The creature stands no chance against the raging fire Drake of the North. Burnt beyond ruin, it crashes to the ground below, dead.

Some sense of reason slips back into Smaug’s mind as he catches the second dragon in his claws. The remaining three are small, less than a quarter his size, and blow steam instead of fire. These cold-drakes are no match for him, and by their panicked cries, they know it. The second beast squirms in his grasp and Smaug effectively rips it to shreds. The third he catches as it tries to escape, and he snaps his jaws around its neck, blowing fire into its throat and killing it.

The fourth flees and he chases it down, over the lake, landing on its back and using his teeth to remove its wings, drowning it in the water below. And as soon as it began, Smaug ends any potential battle. He lands at the base of Erebor, close to the water, and roars his displeasure.

“ _I AM FIRE! I AM DEATH!_ ” he bellows, and his voice crashes past the farthest edge of the lake and into the wilds beyond. “This realm is mine, and any trespasser will find themselves torn from the sky!”

He paces back and forth, anger still simmering below the surface of his hide. After several hours, when he determines that the immediate threat has been neutralized and his temper is in check, he returns to the city above. As he reaches the first ridge of the mountain, he sees Bilbo, Thorin, Fili, and Kili waiting for him. He lands next to them and finds himself immediately surrounded. “Get down here!” Bilbo shouts at him, and as soon as he does, there are warm bodies pressed against his snout. “You scared us to death!” Bilbo continues. “You were outnumbered four to one, what if there had been more of them? You could’ve been killed!”

Worried, Smaug realizes. The hobbit and dwarrows were worried for him, not angry at his rage and destruction. “My dear,” he tries, but it’s the prince who shushes him. 

“We do not doubt the truth of your statements, Smaug, that you are certainly the fiercest dragon in all of Middle Earth. But we would have been cut to our hearts had you been harmed while defending Erebor.”

Smaug presses closer to them. “I will not idly stand by while enemies intend to damage those whom I care about.”

“And we are grateful beyond words, but not at your own expense!” Kili says, frowning up at him. “Smaug, you are our friend! I would arm myself with bow and sword to defend you in your name.” 

“As would I,” Fili adds. “And mother, and even grandfather and great-grandfather.”

Smaug wraps his wings around his family, his family of his choosing, and sighs in pleasure at their words. “I will remember that in the future,” he says, smiling. “But four drakes, even cold-drakes, were no match for me.”

“Yes, we saw!” Kili says, gushing. “That was incredible! Your fire, I’ve never seen you breathe fire before! It was so huge! And what power it took to rip through the gates of Erebor, as though they were water to cleave and not stone! Surely you must be the most magnificent dragon to ever live on Middle Earth!”

Smaug, much to his chagrin, winces. In his fury he’d forgotten about the gates he’d destroyed. But Thorin seems to read his mind and says, “Father and grandfather are already working to rebuild the gates of Erebor. They feel it was time to remodel in any case, to offer a larger entryway for the comfort of _all_ of the citizens of the Mountain.”

“And while there were some scrapes and bumps and cuts, no one was killed, Smaug,” Bilbo adds. He grins. “You’ve officially been labeled a hero in the city of Dale, as well.”

“Ridiculous,” Smaug says, flustered. “I was simply behaving as a dragon would and protecting my hoard.”

Bilbo just gives him an assessing eye, and doesn’t push. They return to Erebor’s halls through the ruined doors and Smaug is given the welcome of a returning conqueror, complete with cheering and gifts. When he’s finally able to settle, Thror approaches him. “Smaug.”

“King Under the Mountain,” Smaug returns, politely. “My apologies for your doors.”

“I do not care about the stone,” the dwarrow replies. “I care about my children, my kin, and my people. All of whom owe you a great debt. As a token of my thanks, I wished to offer you my treasure room as your personal quarters from this point onward. If you’d do me the pleasure of letting me roam through now and again, of course.”

Smaug blinks at the king’s offer; he’s never met any being who would give him an entire room of gold in exchange for the lives of his subjects. Perhaps this is why he finds the mountain such an agreeable home. “I would be honored, King Thror,” he returns. “And you would always be welcome, for while the gold is most comfortable to sleep upon, my true hoard lays elsewhere, as you well know.”

Thror honest-to-Aulë grins at him. “Yes, I’ve learned that fact. I’ve also heard stories of how it’s come to include my grandson and great-grandsons.”

“Indeed. I find your family as dear to me as my own.”

“Then you will accept the room as your own?”

“Graciously.”

Thror claps Smaug upon one claw. “Then it is agreed. And in one week’s time, we will hold a great feast in your honor, Smaug! I have heard rumor that the chefs are already placing orders in the villages for fatted calfs and pork for preparation.”

Smaug tries not to grin. He does. Really.


	6. Return Trips

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> THIS CHAPTER: Feasting; Matchmaking; Belladonna!

Several things happen almost at once during the days leading to the feast; firstly, Smaug eats his weight in smoked and sauced meats that have been prepared in his honor. While unnecessary, the chefs in Erebor’s kitchens are hard to resist.

Thorin makes an announcement that he intends to court Bilbo to marriage, to which Smaug offers a dowry. And finally, Bilbo receives a letter in response from Belladonna which tells him that she wishes to visit, which excites Bilbo to no end. “Mother will be here! She’s insists you must return home for her.”

“We must ask Thorin to send word to Thranduil,” Smaug says, as they lounge about in his new quarters. “If I fly over Mirkwood instead of miles around it, I should be able to make it to the Shire in a day or two. But I would not risk being shot out of the sky because we didn’t alert the elf to our plans.”

“You’ll have to go after the feast,” Bilbo says. He’s sitting on a soft chair that Dis normally occupies. “Oh, she’ll be thrilled to travel, Smaug. It’s been so long since she’s been able to see the clouds as you do.”

“I have no doubt she’ll be much happier to see a certain hobbit and his dwarrow prince.”

Bilbo blushes. “I’ll ask you to be polite enough not to tell her too much, and allow me to tell her in person.”

“If she inquires about you, I will not lie,” Smaug grumbles. “But I will try to change the subject, if possible.”

“That’s all I can ask for.”

Smaug bows low, sweeping out a clawed hand, and says, “I am happy to serve, my liege.”

“Prat!”

That sets them both to snickering. “Honestly, would you believe this tale to be true, if you had to tell it to someone other than me? I wake every day and wish to pinch myself, thinking it’s a dream.”

“You’re owed your happiness, Bilbo. You deserve it. And from what I’ve seen, he’s very good to you. And if he isn’t, I can still eat him.”

Bilbo’s wide smile shines more brightly than the gold Smaug lounges upon. “I thank you for that, my friend. Well, tonight is the great celebration of your great deeds! What plans do you have for a speech?”

“Speech? Nothing. I will simply thank them for the generosity and the meal, and the pleasure of their company.”

Bilbo frowns. “No great words?”

“What more could I say? No, my hobbit. I will not use great words for this meal. I slew those cold-drakes out of pure selfishness, to protect what I hold dear. That is all.”

Their conversation halts at the arrival of two dwarrow princes and their mother and uncle. “Smaug! Tonight is the feast, aren’t you excited?”

Smaug rolls his eyes at Kili. “I know your excitement lays in the ability to drink your weight in ale. For me, it is but a gift from those I would defend.”

The little dwarrow clamors over the golden piles to curl against Smaug’s hide. Unlike his older brother, Kili has no problem expressing his great, cuddling affections. It takes Fili but a moment to join the dark-haired dwarrow near Smaug’s breastplate, and the dragon carefully resituates himself so not to squash either of them. “Are you warm enough now, my little ones?”

Kili yawns an agreement and Fili grins. “Yes, thank you,” he replies.

Dis, Bilbo, and Thorin watch the trio, amused. “Now that you’re settled, would you like to tell Smaug why we came to find the two of them?”

“Yes, please!” Kili says, and Dis smiles. “Great-grandfather wishes to show you the final doors to the kingdom. He asked us to come fetch you! He and Grandfather are most excited with the final product.” 

“As I’m sure they should be,” Bilbo replies. “I’m sure it was a struggle to create doors large enough to properly allow a dragon entrance and exit.”

“It probably helps that the space was already opened up,” Fili says, and the dwarrows laugh. “Smaug took care of that construction all on his own.”

Smaug puffs smoke at the elder dwarrowling, watching Fili laugh with glee. “Honestly,” he says. “If the mountain were made more sturdily, I would never have been able to break through the doors to begin with.”

“Lies!” Kili shouts, and then the two dwarrow princes are sliding their fingers beneath Smaug’s great scales to poke at him in protest. Smaug laughs at their efforts and carefully bats them away, sending them rolling into the golden piles. 

The two princes are not deterred until Dis says, “Boys! I believe you’ll have to grow much bigger and stronger to defeat Smaug in such a manner.”

“Maybe you should try glaring at him, as your mother does,” Thorin suggests, earning scowls from both Dis and Smaug. However, instead of remaining stoic, Thorin grins back at the pair. “That seems to work.”

“You’re hilarious,” Dis says, whacking at her brother. 

Thorin chuckles and Bilbo and he share a fond look. Then, to Smaug’s delight, Bilbo steps into the future king’s space to give him a tender hug. “Ridiculous dwarrow,” he says, nuzzling Thorin’s bearded chin with his own. “How I love you.”

“Oh, gross!” Kili shouts. “Stop, please, my eyes!”

Smaug turns his head so none can see his wide smile. After a moment, he takes another look at the pair, and then frowns. “Bilbo, what is that on the back of your neck? Are you developing a rash?”

One claw tugs at the ascot Bilbo insists on wearing, pulling it aside so Smaug can more easily see the back of his hobbit’s neck. “Bilbo! This looks painful, have you seen to this? Or seen another healer for it?”

Dis makes a choking sound and almost slides off her seat and to the floor. Smaug frowns again, while Bilbo and she both stutter. “This isn’t amusing,” he scolds. “Bilbo…”

“It’s a love bite!” Fili says, interrupting Smaug’s frustrated questioning. “Mister Dwalin says we’re not allowed to bother Bilbo about it though, and he won’t explain what that means, either.”

Smaug trails off, noticing how suddenly Thorin’s gaze attaches to a far wall, the tips of his ears a bright magenta. Dis continues to roar with laughter and oh, OH. Love bites. Of course. “ More like beard burn,” Smaug sniffs, watching Bilbo spew a fresh helping of squeaks and noises. “Surely the Prince of Erebor was taught not to make meals of his intended?”

“Smaug!” Bilbo chastises. “It’s not like that!”

“Oh really. And perhaps there’s another reason why you look as though you’ve been dragged down the road to the market?”

“Well, it’s not like I haven’t returned the favor,” Bilbo says, and smirks. “Now enough.”

All eyes turn to Thorin, who pulls his hair further around his neck and shoulders to hide his skin and bats Dis’ hands away as she tries to expose his own marks of passion. Smaug fears for Dis, who doesn’t look like she can breathe anymore due to laughter. “Boys, is your mother all right?”

“She’ll be fine,” Fili assures, and then they’re all laughing at Thorin and Bilbo – though the dwarrowlings may not fully understand why.

“Well, now that that’s out of the way, shall we go see to the doors?”

“Good idea,” Dis answers Bilbo’s question, once she gets her breath back. “Oh. Oh, my dearest brother, your face…”

“Yes, thank you, enough,” Thorin grunts, but twines his fingers with Bilbo’s. “The gates await us.”

Smaug nudges the princes so they can clamor upon his back and takes flight to the upper levels of Erebor. He arrives before Thorin, Dis and Bilbo and waits upon the ledge so they can all marvel at the great doors before them. “The doors look wonderful, your majesty.” 

“We’ve just to finish shoring up some of the hinges, but I believe you should be able to comfortably fly between the main gates. Would you like to try?”

“Of course! Boys, hold tightly, we’re leaving!”

Smaug opens his wings and takes to the air, exiting the building with a grace unknown to most creatures. The two dwarrows hoot and shout from his back, excited to be out on the skies again. Even Fili laughs as Smaug does an aerial loop, setting down safely on the edge of the mountain. “It seems the doors are more than adequate,” Smaug calls back to the dwarrows waiting for his judgment. “Phenomenal work!”

Cheers go up from the gates of Erebor and Smaug stretches his wings. “Shall we go for a short jaunt while we’re here?”

“Yeah! That would be amazing!”

Smaug shakes his head, takes a great leap into the air, and spirals up into the skies. He soars and dips over the lake, twisting and turning to give his passengers a reason to shout. Then, after stretching his wings for a while, he flies directly into the widened doors of the mountain, landing in the Great Hall. “That was the best!” Fili says, excitedly. “Thank you, Uncle Smaug!”

Smaug blinks. “Uncle?”

“Well, if Uncle Thorin marries Bilbo, he’ll be our Uncle, too… and since you’re his best friend, would that not make you an honorary Uncle as well?”

Smaug finds the idea immediately agreeable. “I would be most pleased to be your Uncle, boys.”

“Yay!”

The two of them beam at him and Smaug is helpless in the face of their happiness. He nudges both of them with his snout, enjoying the way they wrap tiny arms around him, and sends them on their way.

“They adore you, you know.”

Smaug nods at Bilbo’s statement, acknowledging the way the hobbit has snuck up from his flank. “I’m most fond of them as well. Where is your prince, my dear?”

Bilbo grins. “I was hoping that you and I could perhaps go find a place to talk for a while, and leave the others behind? I admit, I was most enjoying our earlier conversation before we were interrupted. I miss spending time with you alone.”

“And I with you,” Smaug replies, and offers Bilbo his forearm so the hobbit can sit on his back. “Come, I’ll take you to the edge of Mirkwood, where the shore is lovely and we can evade both dwarrows and elves alike.”

“Agreed.”

They fly quietly together, neither speaking, and just appreciate the ability to be in each other’s company. Smaug has missed this with his friend – their ability to silently communicate with each other in just a few tilts of the head and touches. When they land, the silence continues, until Smaug asks, “You asked me earlier if I thought this was a dream, and I still say it is a far better reality. But does it get to be too much? Perhaps, when you and I are still more used to our own company…?”

“No,” Bilbo replies. “It’s not that. Not completely anyway. I’m just not used to having more than one person I want to spend all of my time with. I love Thorin and want to be around him as much as possible, but I also feel like I do you a great disservice by not spending all of my free time with you.”

“Bilbo,” Smaug sighs. He shakes his massive head at his friend’s dilemma. “I feel the same way when you’re with him. I _miss_ you. But I also know I cannot be selfish and keep you completely to myself. Besides, Thorin’s presence isn’t intolerable, and since you know how few beings I find agreeable, you’d better hang onto him.”

Bilbo grins, pats at Smaug’s scales in a patronizing manner. “You great softie,” he says. “Look at you, admitting you like my choice of beau.”

“His nephews and sister are also quite pleasing,” Smaug says. “I for one would rather increase my treasure hoard with good company. Besides, despite the fact that he nibbles on you like some sort of goblin, he seems to treat you marvelously.”

“He does, doesn’t he?”

“Indeed.”

Bilbo doesn’t stop smiling. “He’s really quite an excellent kisser, too.”

“And now we’re getting into the details I don’t feel I need,” Smaug says, puffing a cloud of smoke at the hobbit on his back. Over the sounds of Bilbo’s coughs, he adds, “I’m not some female hobbit tween who wants to hear you gush about the dwarrow’s manly attributes. Besides, if you want to really impress me, tell me what he’d taste like roasted.”

“What if I told you what he tastes like without being roasted?”

Smaug chokes on his own steam while Bilbo gives him a smug glance. “Horrifying thought! Keep your bedroom escapades to yourself.”

Bilbo doesn’t stop looking pleased. Finally, he asks, “Manly attributes?”

Smaug waves away the question. “If nothing else, he comes from good stock. And besides, you enjoy his company. There’s nothing wrong with that.”

“So you’re not upset that I don’t spend all my moments alone with you anymore?”

“I have found other friends in your absence. I assure you I’m not wasting away, languishing without you. I miss you, yes, but am happy for you nonetheless. Besides, my dear, most dragons spend their entire lives alone without any creature for companionship. I find myself much luckier for having even a portion of your time.”

Bilbo blinks at him and covers his mouth with his hand to cough again. “I hate that you smoke on me,” he says. “But I’m glad you’re happy here. I would never stay if you weren’t.”

“I know. And that’s how I know you’ll always be my greatest treasure,” Smaug replies. “Now. Enough of this seriousness. I believe we’ve got a feast tonight, so that tomorrow I may head for the Shire, and Belladonna?”

“We do indeed! Though I am surprised that you still won’t make a speech…”

The rest of the inhabitants of Erebor and Dale seem just as surprised later that evening, when Smaug simply nods his head in thanks for the dinner and festivities. A few times during the evening people approach him with thanks, and in some ways it makes him uncomfortable. Smaug often can’t wrap his wings around the idea that he is not only welcome in the halls, but almost a part of the family. 

“Are you in need of an escape?”

Smaug raises an eyebrow at Legolas, who joins him in his quieter corner. “Pardon?”

“You look well and done with the feast,” the elf continues. “As though you’re ready to be gone from great halls and congratulations.”

“Indeed,” Smaug agrees. “I would not call it overwhelming, but it’s more sincere adoration than I am used to.”

Legolas offers a half-smile. “Perhaps you would be amenable to my joining your side for a while? I’ve noticed that many of the dwarves would avoid the company of an elf.”

“Dwarrows,” Smaug corrects, gently. “And only because most of them haven’t any idea that you are a kind and generous people. You do well to put others off with posturing, you know.”

“I believe you have experience with that firsthand.”

Smaug laughs. “I do. But I would welcome your company in any case, whether it be to ward off well-wishers, or to simply enjoy a conversation with a pleasing partner. I notice you’ve spent much of your evening with my dwarrowlings? You enjoy their company as well, I see.”

“I find the crowned princes most agreeable, for they do not bear the burdens of their crowns yet. They grasp at life with both fists and refuse to let go. It is an enviable way to live life.”

“They are open with their hearts in a way that few are,” Smaug replies. “Which is where most of the attraction lies, for me personally. I love that they do not follow every convention set down for them and insist upon making their own way in the world. It’s a tricky business, to balance honor and intention with independence and vitality.”

“Yet they succeed where others would not.”

“I believe that they are still years away from the throne allows them to have more flexibility, young prince.”

Legolas shakes his head. “And yet when I crave adventure, I immediately find myself tamping it down in deference to my father.”

“You are young and have much time for adventures of your own. But think of it this way: the dwarrow princes do not have even a tenth of your lifespan. And yet, in the short time you’ve known them, you’ve managed to move your father’s heart so much that you are now feasting with the dwarrows of Erebor, whom you call friend. Would you think Thranduil, Tauriel, or their guard would be here if not for your honest gesture of friendship? Would you begrudge yourself the honor of making such an alliance come to pass?”

Legolas raises an eyebrow at Smaug. “I see why Bilbo, Thorin, and the kingdom look to you for your council, Lord Dragon. Your way with words is unparalleled.”

Smaug inclines his head in polite acceptance of the compliment. “I have many years of experience more than you, Legolas. It only seems fair that I use it for your benefit.”

“Why are you two hiding over here?” a voice interrupts, and Smaug chuckles. 

“I don’t believe I can quite hide anywhere with my size, youngling,” Smaug replies, nudging the blond dwarrow. “Where is your noisier half this evening?”

“Kili? Oh, he’s around somewhere. But I wanted to see where Legolas had wandered off to, and now I find the two of you in a corner away from all others, and I thought I’d see why.”

Smaug watches Fili and Legolas smile at each other, and gets a rather wicked idea in his head. “You know, you two should really spend more time together,” he says. “You could benefit from each other’s experience, I believe.”

“What experience?” Fili snorts. “I’ve not…”

“I believe he refers to your enthusiasm,” Legolas interrupts, raising an eyebrow at Smaug. “A way for me to unwind a bit, and perhaps…”

“To help me unwind a bit less?”

“You are third in line from the throne,” Smaug says. “Your time together would only strengthen a friendship that’s already forming. I’ve watched enough to see how fond you’ve become of each other. Why not encourage that to continue?”

Fili blushes to the roots of his hair, and Legolas fares no better. Smaug enjoys his triumph. “Surely your parents wouldn’t begrudge you, young ones,” he says, quietly. “The love between a dwarrow and a hobbit would be no more unusual than perhaps affections between a dwarrow and elf.”

They take each other in a new light; Fili smiles shyly at Legolas returns it. “Mayhap we should rejoin the festivities?” Fili asks, gesturing to the elf prince. “I would very much like to show you the library, if you’ve not yet seen it.”

“It would be my pleasure,” Legolas replies.

They say words of parting to Smaug, who nods to them. As they leave, Smaug turns as well, heading toward the comfort of the treasury. If he is to leave early the following morning, then he intends to get a full night’s rest.

~

Without a hobbit upon his back, Smaug is able to make it to the Shire flying straight through, landing him in Belladonna’s field after a day and a half. The first thing he notices, when he lands, is that nothing about the Shire has changed.

The second thing he notices is the smell; blackberry jam and shortbread crust. “You’re trying to give me a stomachache again,” Smaug teases, lowering his head so he can peer into the kitchen window of Bag End. And indeed, he is not surprised to find the windowsill and table lined with blackberry tarts. 

“No one says you have to eat them all in one sitting,” comes the reply. “I’ve made enough that I can offer one or two now, and a few later on.”

Smaug sighs in happiness to see the small, dark-haired hobbit emerge from the smial. “I am most glad to see you, dearest dragon,” Belladonna says, and holds up a tart. “For you.”

Smaug obligingly opens his mouth and as soon as she tosses the tart in, sweet pleasure curls upon his tongue. “You’re a wizard,” he accuses, as the taste hits him fully. He makes a noise of sheer bliss. “Those are amazing.”

“Yes, well, this time I tried to press out some of the seeds, so not to upset your stomach. Is it still as good?”

“I could be slain now and not regret it.”

Belladonna laughs, pats Smaug’s snout in affection. “I’m so glad to hear it. So, I take it you’re well? And my son, is he well?”

“Bilbo is doing wonderfully,” Smaug replies. “It seems he’s taken to Erebor as the people of Erebor have taken to him.”

“And taken to you, I understand from his letters?”

“They were most accepting, despite my stature. It came as a surprise to me as well,” Smaug says, as she gapes at him. “But the dwarrows of the Lonely Mountain are worthy of trust, or I would never have left him behind without my protection.”

“I assume there was a reason he did not come with you?”

“I will let him tell you of his adventures in his own time, from his own tongue,” Smaug says. “For I’ve promised him this, and I would not break that trust.”

“Of course not. When have I ever been able to pry one of you from the other?”

Smaug smiles. “Not even when we first met, those many years ago, could you remove him from my wing when he snuck out to see me.”

“I should’ve known then, one of you as much a troublemaker as the other.”

Belladonna’s words are much different than her expression, however. She looks at Smaug with a mix of fondness and exasperation, and he ducks his head. “Were I not a dragon, I would be grateful for a mother such as you to protect me.” 

“No matter how old you may be, my darling dragon, you will still be a child of mine,” she replies. “Now, another tart?”

Smaug can find no argument, and falls under her motherly ‘spell’ willingly.


	7. Secondhand Dragons

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> THIS CHAPTER: Return to Erebor; More Adoptees; Planning for the Future.

Belladonna, unlike Bilbo, urges Smaug to always “Fly faster, higher, with more twirls and tricks!”

As if he could refuse her anything.

They reach the mountain in record time, Belladonna’s weight light and easy to carry – especially this journey, in which he can fly straight to the Lonely Mountain instead of miles and miles around it. The winds had made conversation all but impossible, but Belladonna persists with, “I know there are things you’ve not told me!” 

“I know. They will become obvious in short order,” Smaug explains, and then lands inside the Great Hall. “Some things more obvious than others, perhaps,” he adds, as Fili and Kili come running toward him.

“Uncle Smaug, Uncle Smaug!”

Smaug grins and gathers the dwarrowling princes into his wings. “Hello, dearest treasures,” he rumbles, as Belladonna slides down his back. “Allow me to introduce Belladonna Took Baggins, Bilbo’s esteemed mother. And speaking of, where is Bilbo?”

“He’s down in the kitchens with Uncle, preparing a meal for his mum. I know a page has been sent to retrieve him, Uncle,” Kili replies. “I am Kili, at your service.”

“And I am Fili, at your service.”

Both dwarrowlings bow to Belladonna, who smiles at them warmly. “I’m honored to meet you both. Unfortunately, Smaug refused to tell me much of what’s been happening in your fair city, as he’s promised Bilbo not to give away any potential secrets. But I would assume that neither of you have made such a promise?”

“Belladonna,” Smaug chides. “You’re cheating.”

“It’s the Tookish blood,” Belladonna replies. She beckons the two princes closer. “Quickly now, before my son arrives.”

“We are the princes of Erebor,” Kili says, lowering his voice. “Basically, our Uncle Thorin’s madly in love with Bilbo, and Bilbo loves him back, and Smaug’s our new uncle too, and we’re really, really glad Bilbo came to Erebor because even the elves like him and trust him. And he’s smart and funny and kind, and makes Uncle laugh…”

“And Uncle never laughed before,” Fili adds.

“And now that Uncle’s courting him, we’re going to get him as another real Uncle! And Uncle Smaug calls us treasure because we’re now part of his hoard.”

Belladonna glares at Smaug. “You couldn’t have told me any of that?”

“I gave my word,” Smaug says. “I would not and could not break it.”

“Honestly…”

“Mum!”

All heads swivel toward the end of the staircase, where Bilbo and Thorin stand. Bilbo runs towards his mother and embraces her. “I thought you wouldn’t be here until almost dinner, and it’s not even tea time!”

“Smaug flew faster than expected, I suppose. Now, introduce me to your royal beau. I can tell from here he’s a handsome one.”

Bilbo’s mouth opens and closes twice, and then he hisses, “Smaug!” 

“I said nothing,” Smaug replies, and gestures at the two dwarrowlings. “However, I am not the only individual standing in this hall, my hobbit.”

The look Bilbo gives Fili and Kili would melt stone. Both dwarrowlings back away, knowing when to run. Smaug nuzzles Belladonna and says, “I believe I’ll take my leave as well, and let you meet your future son-in-law without witness.”

Bilbo sputters and Smaug gives him a wide, toothy smile. “Oops. Did I say something?”

~

The afternoon passes without incident; Smaug listens to hear whether or not Thorin’s bodily shoved into a mineshaft. He hopes Belladonna sees the sense of allowing a match between Erebor and the Shire; not only is it in favor of his best friend, but the Shire would be automatically under dwarrow protection in the future. 

“You vanished rather swiftly earlier,” Thorin says, interrupting Smaug’s musing. The dragon shifts in his golden piles to look at the prince more closely.

“Indeed,” Smaug replies. “I thought you’d be better off meeting Belladonna without a crowd of people surrounding you. And yet you’ve escaped one judgmental chaperone and traded off for another in seeking me out. Why is that?”

Thorin sighs, sits next to Smaug in the piles of gold. “You’re far less intimidating than Bilbo’s mother.”

Smaug hoots in laughter, ignoring the way Thorin glares at him. “It’s not funny,” the dwarrow continues. “She’s terrifying! I’m almost two hundred years old and she makes me feel like a babe, wet behind the ears. I want her to like me, and no matter what I say, she finds fault!”

“You’re not what I would call an outstanding conversationalist, Thorin,” Smaug says. “But for some reason, Bilbo loves you, and any creature with eyes can see that you hold him in highest regard. Belladonna is testing you, to see if you’re worthy of her only son. Why do you not try for diplomacy? Treat her as you would a foreign dignitary. But not an Elvish one, or she’s sure to hate you.”

“I’ve tried! I’ve used my best manners but it’s no use. She tells me not to pretend to be so polite because she knows it’s an act. This is hopeless.”

“I’m sorry to learn you think so little of my best friend, that you would give up on him so easily,” Smaug says. He tilts his head to the far door, catching the shape of Bilbo and Belladonna standing in the background. He adds, “I never took you for a coward.”

“I’m not giving up and I’m no coward,” Thorin snaps. “I’m… I’m drowning in this! I’ve been nervous for days about meeting Belladonna Took, a hobbit capable of taking on dragons and raising the most perfect being in all of Middle Earth! Bilbo is everything I never knew I wanted: smart, loyal, charming, and worth fighting for. But I’m no good with fancy words! You claim me as part of your hoard for his sake, and for the sake of my nephews, but how can I prove to be worthy of him, if I cannot express in plain Westron how much he means to me?”

Smaug nudges Thorin to look over his shoulder. “I think, my dear dwarrow, you just did.”

Thorin looks up and blanches when he sees Belladonna and Bilbo watching him from the corner of the room. “You knew they were there,” he accuses.

“Of course I did,” Smaug replies, rolling his eyes. “It’s easier to speak your heart when you think no one’s listening, Thorin. Now go talk to the love of your life and his mother and stop bothering an old drake who may want nothing more than to eat your ridiculous, foolish self.”

Thorin reaches out and gives Smaug’s claw a pat. “Bilbo was right; you are a great softie. Thank you, Cousin.”

“Bah! Go away!”

Thorin laughs and rejoins Bilbo and Belladonna; they steal away from the treasury, leaving Smaug to his thoughts once more. He puts his head down in a gold pile in anticipation of a nice nap when several dwarrows appear. He greets Dwalin, Balin, and Bofur with a tilt of his head, knowing how close they are to the royal family. “We have a bit of a situation,” Balin states. “One where we could use your expertise. A rider has come from Dale to alert us to two trespassers lounging at the foot of the lonely mountain.”

Smaug arches his brow. “I hardly see how this affects us. Can the men in Dale not handle two trespassers?”

“We would greatly appreciate you not getting mad right away,” Bofur says, “when we tell you these trespassers could, possibly, well. Maybe…”

“They’re dragons,” Dwalin butts in, when it looks as though Bofur won’t get the words out. “Little ones, smaller than the ones that attacked. And they’re begging to speak to you, saying they come with peaceful intentions.”

Smaug squeezes his eyes shut so as not to lose his temper. “Why was I not alerted to this sooner?”

“Well,” Balin says, shoving Dwalin to one side. “I believe the Men of Dale tried to fend them off on their own, but the smaller of the two came close and curled at the feet of the Captain of the Guard like a dog. They were unsure how to proceed from there.”

Smaug doesn’t wait to hear anything more. He lifts himself from his gold and flies directly through the open gates of the city. He passes Dale without a second look, heading for the base of the mountain where a cluster of men sit with two tiny scaled creatures. He lands, snarling, and the two tiny cold drakes scurry behind the humans. “What business do you have here?” Smaug snarls at them. 

“Oh Smaug,” the larger blue drake intones. “Greatest of all Calamities, Most Respected and Feared Drake of the North! We humbly…”

“Enough of your fancy words,” Smaug interrupts. “Speak plainly. What business do you have with the citizens of Dale?”

The smaller green drake chirps at him, and Smaug realizes that these two drakes are almost wet snouted and bare of any scale. “How did two hatchlings come to be at the foot of my domain?”

The blue drake situates herself between Smaug and the tinier green. “My lord, I am Silme, and this is my egg-mate, Aze. Our sires were slain many moon ago in Ūmbar, far south of mountain and water. We were taken by those you slayed, unable to go anywhere else for fear of our safety. We did not approve of approaching the mountain, and when you destroyed the others we thought we might have a better chance coming to you directly in hopes that…”

Smaug watches as Silme gathers her thoughts. He uses old magic to listen for any hint of a lie, and when he finds none, he says, “What do you wish for, hatchling?”

“During our birthing, my brother was wounded so that he can no longer speak, nor does he grow so that he may hunt. The other cold drakes, they would not permit him to share in their kills for this, and I was left to care for us both. Please, he is all I have, and I would swear fealty to your rule if but to protect him. I have no quarrel with Men, nor Elf, nor Dwarf. All I want is a fat calf now and then to share with my kin and a small place for us to lay our heads. Would you grant us this?”

Smaug looks at the green Aze; sees how the tiny drake presses closer to his sister. Neither looks old enough or threatening enough to fear. Aze would be no larger than one of the Shire’s lambs, and Silme only a scant bit larger, and they could easily share one room within the great mountain, if Thror would permit it. “The Guardsmen will return to Dale, and you will both follow me,” Smaug decides. “I taste no lie on your words, but mark me: if this is any trick or trap, I will rip your egg-mate to shred in front of you, and destroy you next.”

“I understand your protectiveness, Great One,” Silme responds. “For I would stand before you as your enemy, if you hurt my kin unprovoked. I will go where you lead.”

Smaug lifts into the air, notes the two smaller drakes following him, and returns to Erebor. When he lands, he bellows for his hobbit and for Thorin. 

It doesn’t take long for the princes and king to come to his shout, along with the rest of Smaug’s ‘family’. “What may we do for you, dearest?”

Smaug gestures to the two tiny drakes behind him. “I have listened to the words spoken by Silme the Blue,” he says. “And old dragon magic hears no lie in her words. She and her egg-mate are orphans in need of a new home, and would seek to make it in your kingdom, King Thror. I bring them in way of introduction, so you may rule upon their request as you best see fit.”

“You mean, you are not Lord of this mountain?” Silme asks, her tiny voice squeaking from behind Smaug’s great bulk. The surprise is evident in her tone. “Lord Smaug?”

“The mountain belongs to the Line of Durin,” Smaug replies. “And I am but a guest here. If you decide to stay, little hatchlings, then you will soon realize that it is better to be a welcome guest than a lonely king without subjects.”

Silme nods, cautiously approaches the throne and the dwarrows. Smaug keeps a close eye on her, allowing her to near his hoard. “I ask for the ability to have a warm place to sleep and a meal now and then, for my egg-mate and I,” she says. “And in return, I would happily patrol your boarders for Orcs and Wargs. I may be small, but I am most capable of assisting in keeping your lands clear from those that would do harm.”

Thror regards her, asks, “Does your egg-mate ask for anything as well?”

The green, Aze, chirps from Smaug’s hind leg. “He does not speak, O King,” Silme replies. “He has never offered his voice. It has been that way since he was young.”

“Mother and I would be happy to see to him,” Bilbo says, from Thorin’s right side. “Err. That is, if they’re allowed to stay, Your Majesty.”

Thror looks to Smaug, who nods. “On a trial, they may stay, and we will see how they acclimate to life in the mountain. I feel as though you may already have an idea of where to keep them, Smaug?”

“They will reside with me, where I may keep a close eye on them,” Smaug replies. “For I feel they may be most comfortable in my quarters.”

Silme gasps. “My Lord! I would not think to displace you from your home! I…”

“Peace, hatchling,” Smaug interrupts. “I assure you, you will not be underwing or in my way. Nor will the room be unsuitable. You will trust me in this. And cease with your flattery; I am Smaug. All titles otherwise are tiring.”

“Thank you, Smaug,” the blue drake says. She looks around at those assembled. “I have seen Dwarf and Man and Elf, but I do not recognize he who offers aid to my egg-mate.”

“I’m Bilbo Baggins of the Shire, at your service,” Bilbo says, bowing to the hatchling. “This is my mother Belladonna. We are hobbits, and both of us healers. If you wish, we would be happy to offer assistance with your… egg-mate?”

“It is draconic,” Smaug says. “For twin.”

Bilbo’s eyes widen, and Smaug understands why; the two cold drakes look nothing alike in coloring or size. “Fraternal twins, not identical.”

“Of course,” Bilbo replies. “The poor dears. You’ve come a long way to a safe place, I promise.”

Thror clears his throat. “Perhaps we should show them to their quarters, so they may take their rest? I will send word to the kitchens for them to send food for our guests’ comfort.”

“We thank you for your hospitality, King Thror,” Silme replies. “And to the rest of you. Thank you.”

Smaug nudges Fili and Kili back when they try to come forward from behind the safety of their mother and uncle. “But Uncle Smaug, we want to meet them,” Kili pouts. “Please?”

Silme looks between the two dwarrowlings and Smaug. “Uncle?”

“Can’t you see the family resemblance?” Kili says, grinning. “I am Kili, son of Vili, at your service. This is Fili, my brother.”

“Pleased to meet you,” the blond dwarrowling says, elbowing Thorin out of the way. “This is our Mother Dis and our Uncle Thorin.”

Smaug sighs as Aze clamors over to Fili’s side, pushing his face into the dwarrowling’s chest. Fili huffs with laughter and scratches at the drake’s scaled head. “Obviously me trying to keep you away from direct contact with our guests was a lost cause from the beginning?”

“Of course it was, Uncle. Look how tiny he is! Even we could take them,” Kili says, laughing at the way Aze tries to climb up Fili’s legs to hang off of his shirt. “He’s no bigger than a Warg puppy.”

Silme chuffs a laugh. “And he is sweetly tempered, as you can see. Aze! Do not climb the little Dwarf!”

“They prefer to be called Dwarrows,” Smaug says. “Come, little hatchlings. This way, please.”

The two dragons – and Kili, and Fili, and half of the royal clan – follow behind. When they approach the treasury, Silme chirps out a sound of shock and a tiny puff of smoke. “ _This_ is where you’re letting us stay?”

“Is something not to your liking, hatchling?”

“My name is Silme, if I am to call you Smaug. And this is… it’s just… I cannot believe you’d willingly allow us to invade such a space of yours. It’s so _shiny_.”

“And it gives great comfort to the cold places between scales. You and your egg-mate will remain here with me.”

“May I look at your twin, Silme?” Belladonna asks. “Examine him, to see if we may assist?”

Silme’s whole frame tightens, but she inclines her head. “You will not harm him?” she asks, softly.

“You have my word that no harm will befall Aze,” Belladonna promises. “I would treat him as I treat my own children, no matter how large or how small.”

“I am not a child,” Smaug says, huffing.

“That remains to be seen,” Belladonna replies, and winks at the two tiny dragons. “Come here, little one.”

Aze unwraps himself from Fili’s frame and shuffles in front of Belladonna. Bilbo appears at her side, and they lift the drake’s snout, check his ears, and examine his scales. “Would you open your mouth please?” 

Aze complies, burping a puff of steam at the pair. “Aze!” Silme scolds, and the little dragon chuffs a laugh. “Don’t be rude.”

Belladonna, however, says, “Aze, would you do that again, please?”

Aze chuffs a steam burp again, and Belladonna says, “Smaug, would you bend to me, darling dragon? I’d like to see your craw stone.”

Smaug bends his head and opens his mouth so that Belladonna can do a side-by-side comparison between the two dragons. “I think I see the problem. Bilbo, do you see it?”

“It looks like the glands in his throat are malformed,” Bilbo replies. Aze wiggles in Belladonna’s hold and she shushes him. Bilbo continues with, “But with the glands fused together that way, it would press upon the vocal chords and… oh! Perhaps those glands also stimulate the growth center.”

“Well done, darling. I think that’s it exactly. Now, we could lance the gland into its appropriate three sections, and I believe that would solve the problem.”

“Lance the gland?”

Belladonna nods at Silme’s question. “Yes. I would give your brother a small dose of dragonsbane to ease him into sleep, and then use sterile tools to separate the blockage into its correct parts. It could be very dangerous to try, but if it worked, I feel your brother could grow, and speak, and live a very full and productive life.”

“No,” Silme says, flatly. “It’s not worth the risk! I will not allow you to…”

Silme’s words cut off as Aze leaps from Belladonna’s grasp into his sister’s space. The green dragon butts at Silme, and Smaug watches her struggle with her egg-mate. “Aze, I would not lose you to this chance,” she says.

“It seems he wants to take the risk,” Smaug says, watching the two dragons communicate through actions and gestures. “He may be young, but he knows his own mind, hatchling. There’s nothing wrong with the way he thinks.”

“I cannot lose him!”

“Belladonna is the best healer I have ever known, and Bilbo is her child and equal to her skill,” Smaug says. “If you wish to remain here, and if your egg-mate wishes to take this risk, then how are you to deny him the chance to speak? To grow?”

“It’s easy for you to say,” Silme growls. “For you’re the Scourge of our Age! You’ve never had to put yourself into the care of a creature such as this, I’m sure!”

Smaug laughs at her. “Hatchling, how do you think these hobbits became hoard? I was assaulted by dragonsbane and would have perished if not for their hard work in restoring me to health. You would be a fool to refuse their offer.”

Silme flails for a moment, the concession throwing off everything she knew. “You would trust them?”

“All of them, dwarrow and hobbit alike. I said to you earlier that it is a fool who seeks a lonely kingdom to rule, instead of taking the pleasure of being a welcomed guest. Do you not think I spoke from experience?”

“Besides,” Bilbo adds. “Smaug has a habit of adopting hoard. First my mother and I, then the Erebor dwarrows, and the Elves of the Woodland Realm. Surely he has room for two tiny drakes.”

“Watch who you’re calling tiny,” Silme mutters.

This sends the assembled crowd into gales of laughter; Bilbo blushes, but persists, “Your future would be brighter here.”

Silme stares at Smaug’s hobbit, and before Smaug can snap at her, she smiles. “Agreed. If this is my brother’s desire, then I give you leave to care for him. But if anything happens, I will not be responsible for my actions.”

“We will treat him like a treasure,” Belladonna responds. “King Thror, would you have a quiet, clean room somewhere in this mountain that we may use as a safe space to perform such a procedure?”

“I will have a space created for you,” the dwarrow responds, nodding. “We will have it ready for you in three days’ time.”

“Then we know how to proceed. Sleep, little dragons,” Thror says. “And welcome to Erebor.”


	8. Epilogue: Creating A Life

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> THIS CHAPTER: Aze’s Healing; Planning a Wedding; Happily Ever After.

Sometimes Smaug wishes that Belladonna had not been able to heal the small, incessantly babbling Aze. For once the green drake was restored to full health, he made up for all of his years of lost speech in the first full month of his recovery.

“Uncle Smaug!”

Smaug sighs, looks down at Fili and Aze, as if his thoughts alone had summoned them. “Where are the other members of your merry band?”

“It’s Kili’s turn to hide,” Aze says, pouting. “And we cannot find him. Would you help us?”

“Can you not use your sense of smell, hatchling?”

“His scent disappears on the third level.”

“And will your sister not help?”

“She’s with Bilbo, Auntie Bella and Thorin in the kitchens, helping to sample foods for the wedding. She practically shoved me away in order to get another bite of beef! I could’ve lost a wing,” the dragonling replies.

Fili cuddles the green drake, soothing Aze’s ruffled nerves. Smaug is glad to see the bond formed between the pair over the last three months. It warms his heart to know that while Fili and Legolas have a tender affection for each other, that Aze and Kili are the blond dwarrow’s best friends. “Hmm. You say you lost your brother on the third level? By the balcony, perhaps?”

“Yes, but how did you know?”

Smaug laughs. “Little ones, use your powers of reasoning. Kili cannot fly, but yet he disappears into thin air? I have a feeling a certain dragon picked your brother up earlier, and they are both in the kitchens getting treats while you two wander the halls elsewhere…”

Aze and Fili both gasp. “Those eggheads!” Aze protests. “I wouldn’t put such treachery past them!” 

“No wonder Silme chased us out of the kitchens so quickly,” Fili says. “Let’s go, Aze! Thanks Uncle Smaug!”

“You’re welcome,” Smaug calls to their retreating forms. He laughs again at the pair. Fili and Aze always fall for Silme and Kili’s pranks and somehow he’s become the mediator of the foursome.

And then it hits him.

“Why am I not invited for tastes?” he mutters, heading toward the kitchens himself.

~

Come to find out, Smaug’s the last to find out about the wedding planning in the lower levels. Though his body does not fit into several halls, he stretches his neck through a set of doors and says, “Why was I not invited?”

He comes face-to-face with what looks like two dozen dwarrows, two dragonlings, two dwarrowlings, two hobbits, and a wizard. “Radagast!” Smaug says, surprised. “I had no idea you were nearby. What draws you to the Lonely Mountain?”

“You two know each other?”

Radagast nods. “Smaug unknowingly helped clean up a spider problem I was having. When I heard he’d come to reside in Erebor, I thought it would be time to come for a visit.”

“Spiders? I hate spiders, they give me the shakes,” Fili says, shuddering. “Were they very large?”

“And crunchy,” Smaug replies, watching the blond dwarrow pull a wrinkled expression. “Radagast offered me thanks for my assistance, but I have not seen him in… how long, wizard? A few hundred years, at least?”

“At least,” Radagast agrees. “I came to see if the rumors of a royal wedding were true, along with the chance to find you again, Lord Dragon.”

“And you are most welcome,” Thorin says, from where he’s… wrapped around a certain hobbit. Smaug watches as Bilbo lifts his fingers to Thorin’s mouth, hand-feeding the king tender bits of food. “That’s a perfect morsel. What is that?”

“Beef wrapped in a strip of carrot,” Bilbo replies, and grins as Thorin takes a quick nibble of his fingertips. “Meat for you, vegetable for me.”

“A perfect combination, then.”

Smaug watches as both Dis and Belladonna roll their eyes in tandem, and then offer the pair fond smiles. “You’re pathetic, brother.”

“I think it’s rather sweet,” Silme says, cooing. “To see them so fond of each other.”

Smaug can’t help but enjoy the interplay, and is especially thrilled when one of the kitchen staff brings him a pork hind. He gnaws at it a little and then swallows it whole, much to the disgust of the females in his company. “What?” 

“Couldn’t you chew with your mouth closed?” Belladonna asks. “Repulsive.”

“I’m a dragon. You’re lucky I won’t eat you instead of my snack.”

Belladonna crosses her arms over her chest. “You aren’t sassing me, darling dragon, are you?”

Smaug tactfully retreats. “I thought so,” the hobbit says.

Bilbo and Thorin and Thror, meanwhile, mock him from the sidelines. “I don’t know how I ended up with the least respectful hoard,” Smaug grumbles, secretly loving the attention. If nothing else, he’s never bored.

Bilbo hugs his snout. “That’s because we know you,” he explains. “And to know you is to know that you aren’t the least bit respectable, and we wouldn’t have it any other way.”

“Hmm. Then perhaps I’ll admit that I wouldn’t trade any of my hoard. Ever.”

The dwarrows and dragons pile upon his face to stroke and hug and cuddle, and truly – in all of Middle Earth – Smaug realizes that this, THIS is the best happy ending of all.

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I do not own the fandom, characters, etc. I make no profit from this. 
> 
> Warnings/Notes: There isn’t any dragon porn in this; Bilbo and he are best friends. Story is from Smaug’s perspective, which I found endlessly amusing. He’s sarcastic and brilliant and oftentimes quite kind and sentimental. Also, in this story I’ve added “extras” not found in Tolkien’s Middle Earth. I feel that if Peter Jackson gets to play in the sandbox, I have the same right.


End file.
